The Cursed Tattoo: Sequel To All You Need Is Love
by bricat
Summary: Defeating Voldemort was supposed to be the hard part, but four years after his death it's not all sunshine for Harry and Ginny. Things begin to unravel when Harry's success at solving his first case as an Auror lands him a spot in a high profile case.
1. Past & Present

Chapter One – Past and Present

The alarm had been going off for the last half an hour, but what finally woke Ginny Weasley was shouting just outside the window. She sat up, her heart racing; half expecting she would have to defend herself from some rogue Death Eater. It took only a minute for her to realize that the only danger around here was to the stupid gits outside the window who decided shouting at six-thirty in the morning was a brilliant idea. If she could see those blokes without having to get out of bed they might already have some superbly conjured Bat Bogeys fluttering on their face.

Now remembering why she sometimes hated London, Ginny leaned over and shut off the alarm. Then she flopped back into the bed, adjusting the covers so she was shielded from the December cold. Turning to her left, she intended to steal some more warmth, but the bed was empty. Harry had already got out. Groaning, she decided to do the same.

She didn't live here, but Ginny spent more time in Harry's flat than she did at home with her own parents, and it had been that way since Harry had moved in shortly before she returned to Hogwarts to finish her education three years previous. At first her mother protested this ("what will people think?") but she relaxed a little when Ron moved in a month later. Perhaps she hoped his presence there would prevent the types of activities most likely to make people talk. Boy, was she wrong.

Most of her family had assumed Ginny would move in with Harry the minute she had finished school, but they were wrong. She liked staying at his flat very much, but sometimes she needed to have her own space. Having to share a small flat in London with her boyfriend and her brother wasn't exactly conducive to solitude. Periodically she still spent time at the Burrow with her parents. When she finished school a year and a half ago this was rare, more recently though she found her childhood home more appealing.

Coming into the kitchen Ginny saw Harry standing at the cooker, turning over bacon. He was perfectly at ease. Having been through so many horrible things in his life it was rare he was ever truly relaxed. It was most pleasing to see him like this, so Ginny watched silently for a minute before making her presence known. She wasn't content standing there too long though. Covering the small space between them she wrapped her arms around his waist, grateful for his warmth.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked. He didn't seem to be startled by her appearance or touch. He just switched the spatula to his other hand, and pulled her closer to him.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, stroking her hair.

"Ah, nervous?"

"A little," Harry admitted, turning his attention to a second pan containing eggs.

"Do you want me to do that?" Ginny offered her help.

"No thanks." Harry leaned down to kiss her.

"OK." Ginny retreated to a chair, leaving him to cook. "You have nothing to be nervous for. You'll do brilliantly."

She watched him work for a few minutes, feeling bemused. He'd been able to legally use magic for more than four years, yet there still things he did without using it. Cooking was one of them. She couldn't imagine trying to prepare food in the Muggle way, but he had a good handle on it. The one time she had asked why he didn't use magic Harry told her he'd had loads of practice at cooking thanks to his aunt and uncle (old habits die hard, he said). He'd had to cook ever since he was tall enough to reach the stove. The nonchalant way he said this made her angry. If his aunt and uncle hadn't been fortunate to already be dead she might have killed them herself. What had they been thinking (or not thinking as the case may have been) to let a young child near a hot stove?

Curling up in her chair, Ginny opened a copy of the morning paper and was greeted by an almost full-page picture of Kingsley Shacklebolt's face, with an inset picture of a large blanketed structure sitting in the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. Ginny read the headline:

WAR MEMORIAL TO BE UNVEILED TODAY

Four years after the death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a memorial honoring those who lost their lives is finally to be unveiled today. The structure, containing the names of more than two hundred victims, has long been anticipated and, some say, overdue. The delay in erecting this structure was largely political with former Minister Rufus Scrimgeour opposing the idea until his last day in office three years ago.

The memorial was then put on the back burner when current Minister Shacklebolt devoted the attentions of his cabinet to rounding up Death Eaters who had eluded capture. It has only been in the last year that work began in earnest on creating the symbol that will help us to remember those valiant witches and wizards who gave their lives in pursuit of peace.

The creation of such a memorial is not without critics. While there are many arguments against the monument, the most vocal of opponents have been those protesting the inclusion of certain victims . . .

Ginny turned the page. She was far too familiar with this argument to read on. She and Harry would probably be considered members of the opposition group. Neither of them opposed the memorial itself; honoring the dead was a brilliant idea; including people like Peter Pettigrew was what they took issue with. Even Draco Malfoy, whose end came as the result of his own cowardice, was questionable.

Three pages in, Ginny came across an article that was rather longer than she thought it should have been, and completely displaced. A picture of her in Quidditch robes, flying around a pitch took up the smallest right hand column. It was a picture from the end of her first season as a Chaser on the Holyhead Harpies.

WEASLEY GETS THE GOLD

By Rita Skeeter

Ginny momentarily wondered why this story was not on the sports page. But, of course, Rita Skeeter was not a sports writer. Sure that this article was not going to stick to the news of her new salary, Ginny read on.

Record-breaking has become a pastime of Holyhead Harpies Chaser Ginevra Weasley. Signing with the team last season she received a record salary for a new player. In her first year she continued this trend, reportedly breaking scoring records over a century old. This streak continues with the announcement of yet another unheard of deal. Jordana Makarios, manager for the all-female Quidditch team, announced last evening that Miss Weasley will be back in the upcoming season, signing on for another two years for a fee of 50,000 galleons, a salary unheard of for such a new player.

Of course, some of these records may have less to do with her talent, and more to do with her connections. Quidditch is not the only thing that Miss Weasley is famous for. The youngest child, and only daughter, of Molly and Arthur Weasley she is the first female in the family for several generations. But that's not the extent of what makes her special. Ginevra Weasley has a connection to one of the Darkest Wizards of our times, a connection shared by only one other person, none other than The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter himself.

There it was, the answer to the question about this article's placement. It wasn't about her salary at all, but rather her relationship with Harry. This happened all the time. Nary a day went by when there wasn't someone who was reporting something about him. It had become habit for reporters (whether sports or otherwise) to include some mention of Harry in any story they wrote about her. Ginny rolled her eyes and continued to read:

It is this connection that makes the otherwise nearly unremarkable Miss Weasley most extraordinary. Much of her relationship with the conqueror of the Dark Lord is shrouded in mystery, hidden by former Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore, but it is well known that she's been smitten with the famous wizard since before her own days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Reports obtained from the Ministry of Magic refer loosely to a situation in her first year when she was saved by Mr. Potter (then age twelve) from dark magic perpetrated by You-Know-Who, the sort of rescue most girls her age can only fantasize about.

From that moment on, the two were inseparable . . .

Hardly, Ginny thought to herself. It had been a mere four years later when they started dating. Dreading what else was written she continued to read.

She is rumored to have been involved in several other adventures with Mr. Potter, including the events, which took place in the fabled Hall of Prophecies a little under a year before the downfall of You-Know-Who. What her relationship was with the Chosen One (as he was correctly called) is not known, but it was mere months later when reports began to surface about a romantic relationship between the red head and Harry Potter, one that was confirmed only days after his seventeenth birthday when she accompanied him on a visit to his parents graves in Godric's Hollow.

That was not the end of reports about the young couple during the final days of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reign of terror. Several months later Miss Weasley was captured by the Dark Lord and was being held prisoner in an attempt to get to Harry Potter. As we are all aware Mr. Potter triumphed that night not only saving Miss. Weasley, but ending the war with You-Know-Who.

A year later Miss Weasley was back in the news when she, in an outraged tone, shouted at then Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour over his use of our boy hero for political gain. It was this speech which prompted investigation into these claims, and shortly thereafter Scrimgeour was forced to resign. Trying to manipulate Harry Potter was against the public mood.

Shortly after Minister Shacklebolt was appointed to his current position, Mr. Potter was asked to join the Auror Department where his expertise was much needed, and he accepted. He joined training while Miss Weasley returned to Hogwarts to complete her education. Harry Potter began the rigorous training that would qualify him to track down Dark Wizards.

Little is known of the following two years, but it seems the young couple continued their relationship, a difficult feat given they saw each other only on Hogsmeade weekends, which occur less than a half dozen times a year. Yet, somehow they made it through, for one of the first interviews ever given by Ginevra when she joined the Holyhead Harpies spoke of her relationship with our savior. Things were fine she told us.

But were they?

A year on, Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter are still 'involved' but she has refused to speak of the relationship in recent interviews, leading some to believe that there may be trouble in paradise, while others think maybe all is not as it seems.

Mr. Potter has a close relationship with the Weasley family that began on his first train-ride to Hogwarts School. It has been reported many times of the closeness between Harry Potter and the Weasley clan. This led to the belief that the relationship between Harry and Ginevra is more like brother and sister.

They wouldn't think that if they'd been here last night! Ginny smiled to herself as she turned to watch Harry, who was still cooking. No, their relationship had long ago changed from being like siblings (if it ever was, which she could not recall) to something much greater.

Some have gone so far as to theorize their relationship is a cover used to shield us from the truth about their romantic lives.

It has been alleged that Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley lead lives much different than their public personas would suggest. More than a few reports have linked Miss Weasley with many other famous (and some not so famous) wizards. Mr. Potter has been subject of fewer such reports, making people question why he, a man who could have any witch, has attached himself to the girl he'd been living with as a sister. As one wizard said, "maybe he prefers his fellows."

"What utter rubbish!" Ginny put down the paper.

"What's rubbish?" Ron asked, coming into the kitchen, followed closely by Hermione.

"I think she's talking about something in the paper," Hermione said, sitting down at the small table. She snatched up the discarded paper and began to read rapidly. Ginny turned her attention to Harry who was transferring the cooked bacon and eggs out of the pan.

"Oh, how ridiculous," Hermione said angrily a moment later. When both Ron and Harry asked her what she was talking about Hermione read the last paragraph aloud. Harry rolled his eyes, while Ron guffawed. "One guess as to who wrote this." When Harry and Ron looked at her she shoved the paper into the middle of the table. "Rita Skeeter."

"Doesn't surprise me in the least," Harry said, sitting down and starting to eat. "I ran into her at the Ministry yesterday and she seemed really pissed that I wouldn't talk to her about Ginny's deal. Sorry, Gin." He looked at her apologetically.

"It's fine." Ginny smiled, leaning over to give him a kiss. What Rita Skeeter had to say about her was of little importance.

"Oi! At the breakfast table?" Ron said grumpily. Even after three years he was still somewhat touchy about seeing Harry and Ginny doing anything physical. "Can you two not give it a rest?"

"No, Ron, we can't," Ginny replied before whispering a tiny suggestion in Harry's ear. He seemed to like that idea because he gave her a slight nod, and returned to his food, eating a little quicker than before. Ginny didn't wait patiently at all. Ron watched the two of them for a minute before following Hermione and getting his own breakfast. When Harry finally cleaned his plate, Ginny was already on her feet. She waited even more impatiently as Harry cleared away his dishes.

"Where are you two going?" Ron asked suspiciously. He was only halfway through his own plate of food, but his head snapped up to watch his sister and best mate make their way out of the kitchen.

"Brother, you don't want to know," Ginny told him, ruffling his hair as she passed.

"You're not – it's seven in the morning," Ron called after them, but they didn't turn around.

Ginny could feel his eyes on her back and, sure enough, as she closed the bedroom door he was watching her with a frown on his face. Honestly, Ron needed to get over this protective older brother bit. They were all adults now and had been for several years. It wasn't like he and Hermione weren't doing the exact same thing. Harry thought of Hermione as a sister yet he didn't get weird about her and Ron being together.

Ginny turned to face Harry who had a large smile plastered across his face and she returned the expression feeling her breathing growing shallow. They'd been in this position an uncountable number of times yet she still couldn't stop her heart from racing as she waited for his first touch.

Ginny's certainly didn't need to say here all the time, but who could resist all of the amenities?

The atrium was full to bursting when Harry and Ginny ran in mere moments before the ceremony was to start. They had lost track of time (an unfortunate habit of theirs). They had no time to find a safe Apparition point, instead using the Floo network. As a result they were both covered in soot. The minute they straightened up one of Kingsley's aids tapped him on the arm and asked Harry to follow.

"Er . . . OK," Harry said. He gave her a peck on the cheek and was gone.

Ginny made her way to the second row where her family and Hermione were sitting. Normally she hated having such a bright hair colour, but it certainly did make it easier to spot her family members in the crowd. She wove her way through the milling people quickly hoping not to attract too much attention and get waylaid by someone who wanted to have a play-by-play conversation about her last Quidditch match.

"You sure took your time," Ron said moodily as he stood up to let her pass.

"Yeah, lost track of time. It happens," Ginny said, sitting down between her brother and mother. She was not too concerned about it.

"Ginny, for Merlin's sake, why were you and Harry so late?" her mother chided, seeming not to have heard her comment to Ron.

"Sorry," Ginny stated, punching Ron in the leg when he chuckled quietly. "It just took us a little longer to get ready than we thought."

"And look at the state of you, you're all covered in soot," Molly continued, using her wand to clear away the ashes. "I thought you two were going to Apparate? I hope Harry isn't in the same state as you."

"No, mum, he was worse," Ginny said pushing her mother's wand away. Even though her children were all grown up and perfectly capable of taking care of themselves Molly considered it her duty to treat them like they were still five years old. Sometimes it was nice but most times it was aggravating.

Putting her wand back in her handbag Molly continue talking.

"What was it that took you two so long to get here? Ron said you were certainly up early enough."

"Yeah, Gin, what took you?" Ron asked from her left in a tone of mock concern.

Ginny avoided looking at Ron, but several spells with unpleasant effects came to mind. He was always doing stuff like this, trying to get her into trouble, or at least an uncomfortable situation, with their mother. She was sure he thought if he could get their mother upset enough Ginny would stop staying over. The flaw in his plan was that Ginny wasn't scared of her mother like the men in her family (including Harry) were.

"We were otherwise engaged, if you must know," Ginny told them both. She smiled at Ron, letting him know this was not over, before turning to her mother, whose face was a little red. Molly said nothing for a minute, which was long enough for Ginny to hope the subject was closed.

"I really don't like the idea of you staying there all the time, Ginevra." Ginny sighed. Whenever her mother used her full name it was a sign she was displeased. "People will talk. You don't want to be known as a –"

"Mum, did you see that article in the paper this morning?" Ginny cut her off. "Hasn't seemed to make a difference, has it? According to that article Harry'd much prefer Ron here." Ginny tapped her brother on the back, knowing exactly how he'd react. His splutter of shock did not disappoint.

Having got one over on her brother, Ginny turned back to face the front the proceedings about to commence, but Molly was able to get in one last word before they all had to quiet down.

"Ginny, you know that wasn't the only thing the article said. It made accusations about you too. Your reputation is on the line here."

"From a Rita Skeeter article? Please!" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"The author of that story is hardly what matters. It's inappropriate for you to be staying there so much."

"Mum, I've told you. It's easier for me to get to practice from Harry's," Ginny said wearily. She'd lost count of how many times they'd had this conversation. Though she always told her mother this, it was the least relevant of reasons for her staying there. She was a witch after all and could easily Floo or Apparate to practice from the Burrow. But, if she were to do that she wouldn't have added benefits, like this morning.

Ginny was thankful Kingsley's tall dark form appeared in front of all the spectators just then. It caused a silence to fall across the large group of people in the hall, and Molly was prevented from commenting on her daughter's statement.

Three years into the bureaucratic hell of political life Kingsley was little changed. His mannerisms were much more like an Auror than a politician, which meant he had little patience for political red tape. His goal was to streamline the running of all departments to better allocate resources. One of the first things he had done when taking over the office was to disband all the special new departments that had been set up to deal with the Voldemort crisis (including the department Arthur Weasley had headed), and set as many of those people to rounding up Death Eaters who had scattered after their master's demise.

Today was just another example of how Kingsley budgeted his time to get the most out of every minute. This was no mere dedication ceremony for a new memorial, but also means for introducing the world to half a dozen new Aurors, one who just happened to be Harry James Potter.

The timing of this dedication was not coincidental. While Kingsley was the antithesis of Fudge, he was not one to miss an opportunity either. And here was a ready made way to finally put on display this long awaited monument, show the wizarding world that the Ministry was still serious about tracking down Dark Wizards, and garner a lot of attention in the mix.

Unlike his predecessors, Kingsley refused to manipulate Harry into anything. They talked beforehand to make sure Harry was OK with Kingsley mentioning his name in connection with the operation against the Death Eaters. Harry's mere presence, and the knowledge he was continuing to fight the Dark Arts would give people back the hope they were starting to lose with the recent upsurge in Dark activity.

Kingsley stood in front of the large pyramid shaped monument. The shiny grey granite was covered on four sides by the names of more than two hundred people: the victims of two wars with Voldemort. It was an impressive structure but Ginny couldn't help thinking it looked like a metronome.

What a difference a few years made, Ginny thought as she watched Kingsley moving in front of the massive structure. Five and a half years ago the Ministry had been under the control of Cornelius Fudge and where this new structure stood was the magnificent Fountain of Magical Brethren. That had, of course, been destroyed the night of the last great Dumbledore and Voldemort duel, the same night Sirius died.

Four years ago Ginny had not been here, but heard from Ron what Rufus Scrimgeour attempted to do. On Harry's seventeenth birthday when he and Ron had come to take their Apparition tests, Scrimgeour attempted to force Harry's hand, by publicly declaring that the destroyed Fountain of Magical Brethren would be rededicated and rebuilt in the name of Sirius Black. Harry had been furious, and gave one of only two public declarations of his displeasure with the Ministry of Magic's tactics in dealing with the Voldemort war.

Three years ago, the last time Ginny sat in this hall, it had been Rufus Scrimgeour up there trying to turn a one year celebration of Voldemort's downfall, into an event for his own gain by once more using Harry. Harry had chosen not to come that night, predicting Scrimgeour's intentions. Ginny had been sitting in the same purple chairs she was now sitting in, and stood up for Harry against Scrimgeour's rubbish. She told him, in front of about two hundred people, exactly what she thought of him and his tactics. People must have agreed with her because it was shortly thereafter he was forced to resign, and Kingsley was appointed the new Minister for Magic.

Like Scrimgeour, Kingsley had been an Auror, but that was the extent of their similarities. These differences included such things like Kingsley's hatred for giving speeches, his refusal to use a podium, and keeping any speeches as brief as possible.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. As you all know our reason for being here this morning is two-fold. To begin, we will have our first public viewing of the long-awaited monument honoring those who died in the war with the Dark Wizard Voldemort." Even four years after his death the frisson of fear that went around the room at the mention of his name was no less diminished. "As of this morning it is open for viewing."

Kingsley stepped aside so the crowd of people could get a better view of the new structure. It was half the size of the fountain of magical Brethren, but loomed over the m like it held the ghosts of everyone whose name was engraved on it. As people were eyeing it, and cameras snapping photos, four men and two women came to stand behind Kingsley: the new Aurors. Ginny found Harry standing almost directly behind the Minister and winked at him. He (also devoid of soot now) winked back at her and gave her a small playful smile. He was thinking about this morning. Ginny returned the smile, before moving her attention back to Kingsley, who resumed talking.

"Now, for more pressing matters. Rumors have been rampant about a reported increase in Dark Magic in recent months. I am sorry to say these are true." He allowed a small outburst, and then held up his wand for silence. "Therefore we recommend practicing due diligence when dealing with matters of personal safety. Do not travel alone at night, report suspicious activity to the Ministry and arm yourselves with protective spels. Anyone requiring assistance in such matters can contact our Department of Magical Law Enforcement to set up appropriate training. In the meantime, we are not taking this news lying down. Aurors are working round the clock, tracking down those we believe responsible for these activities. And today we are adding an additional six recruits to the department."

Kingsley motioned for the six brand new (and slightly green) Aurors to come up front. They did so, trying to affect an air of confidence, at which they were failing spectacularly. Harry held up rather well, Ginny thought, but his poor comrade on the right trod on the hem of his robes and almost fell. Harry had to grab his arm to steady him. Ron chuckled softly on Ginny's left before leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"Not looking like he's going to get rid of those rumors anytime soon, eh?"

Ginny elbowed him in his side.

"Quiet Ron, or I might just have to tell you exactly how wrong that article is." Ron grimaced and became silent. It was so easy to get him to stop talking sometimes.

"Here, ladies and gentlemen are the six new Aurors who are going to aid us in keeping you all safe: Lada Tarasov, Mannix O'Hara, Mosi Gandhi, Romeo de Rossi, Alastrina Goodwin, and Harry Potter." Kingsley pointed at each as he called their names.

The first five received big rounds of applause, but predictably none was as loud as for Harry. He stood there with his hands in the pockets of his robes, watching the ground. Kingsley let the applause go on for a minute. Then he once again held up his wand for silence.

"These new members of our Auror division will be working hard to keep you safe. They, and we at the Ministry, cannot hope to triumph over wrong doers without your help. If you see any suspicious activity I urge you to notify Magical Law Enforcement or the Auror office immediately. Good day."

The silence so recently restored started to disappear once again as people began to talk and get out of their seats.

"Not much of a convocation was it? Really straight to the point," Ron said.

"Yes, well, that's Kingsley for you, isn't it?" Hermione asked rhetorically as they all stood up and shuffled out into the aisle. "I don't think any of the six minded though. Did you see Harry up there?"

It was difficult for Ginny to see Harry through the crowds of people now milling about, trying to make it to the front for a closer look at the newly revealed monument. Thankfully both Ron and Bill were tall and managed to spot Harry's messy mop of black hair. He was currently in conversation with Kingsley. They made their way straight to him and all she had to do was follow her brothers.

"Ginny, how are you?" Kingsley asked when the large group finally managed to break through the crowd. They shook hands, and then he bent down to kiss her on the cheek. It was familiar; he was a family friend, from way back in the days of the now disbanded Order of the Phoenix.

"Fine Kingsley, thanks. Nice speech up there. A little prolix if you ask me." Ginny replied, with a serious look on her face.

"Very funny," he responded not smiling, but obviously amused by her jest.

"I try." Ginny shrugged and moved over to Harry while the rest of her family greeted their old friend. "Nice save with Mannix up there," she told him. "I thought for sure he was going to fall on his face."

"Yeah, he probably would have done. Sometimes he reminds me of Tonks," Harry said, looking around. "Speaking of . . . did you see her or Remus?"

"Nope, but then I didn't exactly have a lot of time to look for them, did I?"

"No I guess you didn't," Harry replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. It was an old habit he'd had since before Voldemort's death, and was still a dead giveaway that something about sex was being discussed.

"You know if you keep doing that people are going to know exactly what we're talking about," Ginny said, moving closer to him, so they were standing a little too close than was appropriate for a public setting.

"Gin, I'd be careful. I saw Rita Skeeter lurking around here," Harry said, not making any move to increase the space between them but glancing around quickly.

"Oh, really?" Ginny asked innocently. She looked around too and spotted a woman in elaborate blonde curls watching her and Harry. "I think that's her there, isn't it?"

"Yeah, wh –"

Harry didn't finish his question, because Ginny grabbed him and kissed him passionately. He was taken aback but he was responding to her kiss. They stayed that way for about ten seconds (just long enough to attract some attention) after which Ginny pulled away.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, a little breathlessly.

"Just because . . . " Ginny said. Harry turned back towards her family. Before she did the same, Ginny glanced back at Rita Skeeter. The elder woman was smirking at her. Ginny put on her best innocent smile, waved at the reporter and then turned away. Two can play at your game, she thought.

Over the last year, since she had finished school, Ginny and Harry had made a decision to try and keep their private lives out of the papers. This meant that they were not typically overly affectionate in public, which is what laid the groundwork for this latest article. As a general rule Ginny still wanted to keep as much of her life private as she could, there were times that called for drastic measures, even those that resulted in her mother looking at her like she was worried about her daughter's sanity (or maybe it was her virtue).

"Ginevra Molly Weasley was that really necessary?" Molly snapped. Her full name? She was really in trouble now.

"I – I'm sorry –" Harry started, getting that distinctly uncomfortable look about him again. Ginny stopped him.

"Yes, mum, it was. It's normal for people in relationships -"

"Shoving your tongue down his throat in public isn't!"

" – Surely you and dad would know that, having had seven children."

Molly blushed furiously, but she moved closer to Ginny and spoke in a volume quiet enough not to be overheard.

"There's a time and a place for things. Here is not the time for that!"

"What? I'm not able to congratulate my boyfriend on his new job?"

"Gin, she's right. We shouldn't have –"

"Do you want these nasty rumors floating around Ginny? Do you want people to think you're doing _other_ things?"

"We _are_ doing other things!" Ginny stated well aware that the atrium at the Ministry of Magic was not the best place to be having this conversation but they were too far into it to back down now. She felt bad for her comment when she saw the expression on her mother's face. She couldn't take it back now. Trying to soften the blow, Ginny added, "it's not like you and dad haven't."

"We never did _that_ until we were married. And that's hardly the point, Ginny."

The expression she was wearing left little doubt in Ginny's mind what her mother was going to say next. Her anger disappeared almost instantaneously and she looked at Harry and Ginny sappily. It was a reaction she'd worn several times since Ginny finished school and started staying at Harry's. Molly thought now her daughter was of age and out of school she should be thinking about settling down and getting married. Ginny disagreed. Someday, yes, but she was only twenty years old. That was far too young to make that commitment. Hell, she and Harry weren't even officially living together.

"You know the pair of you have been together for a while now. Have you given any thought –"

"Mum, please don't start with that again." Ginny could not restrain herself from rolling her eyes.

"What? Is there something so terrible with wanting you to be happy?" Molly asked a little excitedly.

They made it to a fireplace that didn't have too long a line and all waited to pile in. They were going to have a small party at the Burrow before Ginny and Harry went to a start of season party that the Harpies were putting on later that evening. Or at least that had been the plan before her mother once again started trying to marry her off.

"I am happy," Ginny told her mother. "I like things the way they are. Harry likes things the way they are. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Because you're my little girl, and I can't bear to think people believe you are . . . are doing those things in that article."

"Mum, I've told you, it's rubbish, just ignore it. It'll go away in time. Having a ring isn't going to change anything." Ginny was really starting to lose patience now. They were trying to remain quiet to keep their conversation private, but Ginny was about a nanosecond away from screaming at her mother out of frustration.

"Harry," Molly said, turning to him. "Surely you –"

"Leave Harry out of this, mum," Ginny said loudly. People near them turned at her outburst. When they saw who it was (or more likely who she was with) they started nudging their neighbors. Soon there was a rather large crowd watching them. Couldn't they just mind their own business? This was the last straw for Ginny.

"You know what? Forget it. I don't feel like coming to this stupid thing anyway." Ginny yanked her hand out of Harry's, and strode away through the crowd. She could feel her face burning from her fury. Her mother always did this. At least twice a week she would slip in some comment about how she wasn't getting any younger and would like to see all of her children happily settled down before she was gone.

Ginny stormed through the atrium and finally found a corner at the far end, near the visitor's entrance that was not crammed with people. She leaned against the wall and watched people bustling about, leaving through the phone booth which served as the visitor's entrance, talking with colleagues or friends, or heading to their various offices within the Ministry. She knew she had blown everything out of proportion. It was an occupational hazard of being a Weasley. But everyone had their breaking point and she had been telling her mother for very near a year already that after everything they'd been through she and Harry just wanted some time to be together without having to make some grand commitment.

"Excuse me?"

A boy and a girl who looked to be just a few years younger than her were standing just in front of Ginny.

"Yes?"

"Are you Ginny Weasley, the Harpies Chaser?"

"I am."

"I told you so," the girl said excitedly, punching the boy in the arm. Ginny smiled at their reactions. They had to be siblings, because their interactions reminded her of the way she and Ron were. The boy looked like he wanted to say something to his sister, but instead blushed a little as they turned back to Ginny. "We were just wondering, Miss. Weasley -"

"Ginny, please."

"Oh, OK, Ginny," the girl said a little nervously. "We were just wondering if we could have your autograph?"

"Oh . . . " Though it was still a relatively odd concept to be asked to sign things for complete strangers it was not what made her stop talking. Ginny looked past the two fans. Someone very familiar was approaching her. Harry had volunteered to come and get her, and he would be there in just a few seconds. Suddenly she wanted to get out of the Ministry. "Sure. D'you have a quill?"

"Yes, it's here somewhere," the girl said, fumbling in her pockets. Ginny started to fidget as she saw Harry getting closer, keeping his eyes on her. What did he think he was doing? Was he scared she was going to run away?

"Ah, there it is." The girl pulled a scrunched up quill, bottle of ink, and sheet of parchment from her bag. Ginny signed her name quickly and shoved the parchment back at the girl with a smile.

"There you go," she said. "I'm sorry, I've got to go now."

Ginny knew she had upset the two kids with her abrupt behaviour, but she wanted to meet Harry. She couldn't understand why she was standing here in the first place. The argument with her mother seemed so pointless. It wasn't the first time she'd overreacted as of late either.

When Ginny skirted around the two fans to meet Harry, they turned around to watch her leave, effectively staring right at Harry, who was now five feet away.

"Oh, wow. Harry Potter!" The girl couldn't seem to find any other words to say.

Oh, honestly, Ginny thought, the way people reacted to Harry you'd think that he was some sort of alien life-form. Feeling her annoyance flare again she placed herself between Harry and the two young kids who were staring up at him avidly, and told him pointedly she was ready to go.

"OK, let's go then," he replied, and they set off back to the fireplaces to meet up with her family.

Ginny's feeling of annoyance stayed with her throughout the rest of the day, and was still dangerously close to the surface when she and Harry arrived at the party for her Quidditch team. They weren't planning on staying long because the following morning Harry was starting at the Ministry, and Ginny started training for the new season.

"Weasley, come here," called Jordana Makarios, manager for the team the minute they stepped in the room. Ginny dragged Harry over with her.

"Nice display this morning," Jordana said, "at the Ministry."

"Thanks," Ginny said, feeling a little of her annoyance dissipate, replaced by a faint blush. Harry looked at his feet. "How've you been Jordana?"

"Busy during the off-season, but I didn't call you over to bore you with that. There's someone here who says he knows you both. Oliver?"

A tall and stocky auburn haired man standing over in the corner turned at the sound of his name.

"Wh – Harry," he yelled, bounding over.

"Oliver, how are you?" Harry asked as the pair grasped hands, and then patted each other on the shoulder.

"Couldn't be better, couldn't be better," Oliver said. Ginny didn't doubt this was true. Like her he had just signed a very lucrative three-year deal with Puddlemere. She'd probably be playing him some time during the season. "But what about you? An Auror? I'd have thought with your seeking skills you'd have gone pro for sure."

"Yeah, well . . . "

"Damn waste of a good player," Jordana piped up. "Wouldn't you agree, Ginny?"

"Hmmm," Ginny said, nodding her agreement as she sipped the Firewhiskey she'd picked up from a passing tray.

"Oh yeah, the famous Weasley," Oliver turned his attention to her. "I wish you'd been on the team at Hogwarts when I was there. Who would have known you Weasleys are all born to play Quidditch?"

"You'd better believe it. And you'll see just how good when we play you and kick your ass." She smiled sweetly at Oliver, causing him, Harry and Jordana to laugh.

"You going to let her talk to me like that?" Oliver chided Harry, winking at Ginny.

"Oh yeah. I don't want her mad at me," Harry said, smiling at her too. "She scares me just a little."

"Really?" Oliver looked at her with more interest. "Who knew the famous Harry Potter scared so easily."

"I don't know if I'd say easy. You've never been on the receiving end of one of her hexes, have you?" Harry asked.

"Well, well, this changes things then, doesn't it?" Oliver said. "I'll have to keep my eye on you, Weasley."

"Yes, you certainly will. You know perfectly well she's our best scorer," Jordana spoke up. "Ginny, there are a few other people I'd like you to meet. If you'll excuse us gentlemen."

For the next few hours Ginny was dragged around to meet everyone in the room. She had a heated debate with Gwenog Jones, who was still the captain of the team, about Chasing forms. They frequently got into it, but it was always good-natured. Gwenog always joked about fearing for her captaincy now Ginny joined the team, today was no different.

Harry and Ginny spent the few hours they were at the party on opposite sides of the room. Whenever they tried to get back to each other someone would grab them and drag them to meet someone else. It got old very quickly. It wasn't that they needed to be within close proximity to each other every second, but during social engagements it was nice to spend some time together.

Ginny was particularly annoyed at the fact everyone there knew she and Harry were dating, yet almost every girl had to flirt with him, even some of her own team mates. By the time they finally got back to each other she was in quite the foul mood, and was half ready to jinx someone. Where exactly did they get off thinking that just because Harry was famous he was public property? Fortunately for him, Harry had got very good at extracting himself from those sort of situations.

As they finally made it back to each other, both ready to leave, Ginny and Harry were joined by Oliver, Jordana and Gwenog, and seemed to be continuing the conversation from earlier that evening.

" . . . Yes, I've often said she's the best new Chaser we've seen in a long time," Gwenog was saying in her pretentious voice as she eyed Oliver appreciatively. At least _she_ wasn't eyeing Harry.

"She's not a bad seeker either," Harry took the new glass of Firewhiskey she'd just grabbed from a passing tray. "Gin, don't you think you've had enough?" he asked her quietly.

"No, I don't," she replied, grabbing the glass and downing it.

The others stopped their conversation and watched the exchange between Harry and Ginny. After the Firewhiskey had disappeared down her throat, they returned to their conversation as though nothing had happened. Harry was watching her worriedly

"Yeah, that's what I hear. Of course she couldn't hold a candle to Potter here," Oliver said proudly. "Did I tell you about the first game he ever played in?"

This was her team's party, and they had to hear about Harry again? She couldn't restrain herself from rolling her eyes. He must have seen her do so because Harry said it was time for them to go. After five glasses of Firewhiskey Ginny didn't have much ability to resist, but it was not for lack of trying. She told him she wasn't ready to leave.

"No, I think we need to go," Harry repeated.

So go they did.

Within minutes Harry was depositing Ginny on his bed. When he started to stand up, she grabbed the clasp on his cloak and pulled him down to her, kissing him. He pulled away.

"Get some sleep. You're going to feel it in the morning."

"But I'm not tired," she said seductively, but could hear her own slurred speech. Yeah, that sounded sexy.

"Gin, you're sloshed. Just go to sleep." With those words he walked out of the room.

Ginny intended to follow him, but her limbs weren't cooperating with her. They weren't the only things. It was like life wasn't cooperating with her lately.

During the months between Dumbledore and Voldemort's deaths their lives were on hold. So when Harry finally killed him a whole new world of possibilities seemed to lie before them. They could have a life unencumbered by Dark Magic. Lately though all of those pools of possibility seemed to have dried up. Within the last year Ginny had been noticing this more than ever.

Suddenly she felt exhausted and stopped trying to get her limbs to work properly. She closed her eyes and was almost instantly asleep shutting out those echoes of what life could have been.


	2. The Engagement

Chapter Two – The Engagement

It was a sudden pounding noise, not the alarm clock that woke both Harry and Ginny the following morning. The lack of rowdy pub goers had allowed them to once again sleep through their alarm. Heart pounding, Harry fumbled for his glasses, as Ginny, cursing, reached over to shut off the screeching alarm.

The pounding occurred for a third time.

"What?" Harry called irritably, having just poked himself in the eye as he tried to put on his glasses.

"Are you two awake in there?" Ron asked through the closed door.

"Obviously we're awake idiot," Ginny responded. "How many times do we answer you in our sleep?"

"Well, you'd better get up then. It's seven thirty."

Those last three words made Harry sit up quickly. He looked over at the clock and found that Ron was quite right. Their alarm had clearly been going off for about an hour. How could they have slept through it? Perplexing as that question was, the search for an answer was not important. What was important was the fact that both he and Ginny had to be at work in less than an hour.

Feeling completely awake, and now thankful to Ron for making sure they were awake, Harry jumped out of bed and headed for the door. He needed to take a shower before work. Before he exited the room entirely though, Harry looked back. Not only was Ginny not out of bed, she had pulled a pillow over her to block out the light. This was a maneuver Harry knew a all too well. It was a sure sign that little too much Firewhiskey had been ingested the night before. As he knew what Ginny was feeling right now, Harry let her be and headed off to take his shower.

He was waylaid by Hermione minutes later when he emerged from the bathroom.

"Is there something wrong with Ginny?" she asked.

"Nothing that a good hangover cure wouldn't fix."

"She was drinking last night?" Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "That's not like her.

"You're telling me. I tried to get her to stop, but . . . " Harry ceased talking. Yes, it was certainly true he had tried to get her to stop, but she had been determined to drink every glass of Firewhiskey at that party. That was not normal for her. Even during her off- season Ginny wasn't much of a drinker. When she was in training though she didn't even like to be around the smell of alcohol.

Ginny had been acting odd all day though, hadn't she? It had started after she had read that stupid Rita Skeeter article. Those reports, regardless of who wrote them, always seemed to wind her up. It had been happening more so in the last few months than it had when she first finished school and started playing with the Harpies. Harry told her then, and he truly believed it, that she'd get used to those stories. He had, for the most part. Reporters were out there to sell papers (as Rita Skeeter herself had once told Hermione), and so they tended to write stories that would sell, not the ones that were true.

"Bloody hell!"

"What now?" Hermione cried, rushing into the small kitchen at Ron's cry. The room was starting to fill with smoke, and it was easy to tell why. He had left the eggs unattended for a little too long, and they had started to burn.

"I thought I told you we didn't have time for this," Hermione said wearily.

"We've got time. Besides after last night, I thought –"

"Shut up," Hermione hissed at him, turning as red as Ron's hair. "I thought we said we'd talk about that later." She shuffled her feet and glanced back at Harry, not quite meeting his eyes. It seemed that Ron realized he was there just then, because he cleared his throat and turned back to the mess that was supposed to have been his breakfast. Definitely not wanting to hear any more of this conversation, Harry squeezed into the tiny kitchen, grabbed the Sobrius potion out of the cupboard and returned to his own room to make sure that Ginny was indeed awake.

There had been some progress since he had left. At least Ginny was sitting up. She turned her head very slightly as he approached, and a small moan escaped her. She clutched her head.

"Here." Harry handed her a measure of the clear liquid. Ginny eyed it warily before taking it and giving it a sniff.

"Ugh," she said pulling a disgusted face. "It smells like floor wax."

"Doesn't taste much better. But it works fast," Harry said.

Within minutes Ginny was up and ready for her day. She still looked pale, but at least her headache and nausea would be gone. Replacing the bottle in the cabinet, Harry made a note that they needed more, and a second note to thank Fred and George for recommending it in the first place. That particular potion had come in handy a few times now.

"Forget those Ron. We'll deal with them later," Hermione said over the clank of dishes. She looked back at Harry apologetically. "We _will_ deal with this later."

With those last words, she grabbed Ron and the pair of them headed over to the fire in the corner of the living room. Seconds later, in two bursts of green flame, both Ron and Hermione had spun out of sight.

They had made good time, Harry thought, looking down at his watch. He didn't have to be at work for another fifteen minutes. Leaning against the counter he grabbed a piece of the toast Ron had started to make. He was munching on it when Ginny finally made her appearance in the kitchen.

"Did I miss them?" she asked, grabbing a second piece of toast and buttering it.

"Yeah."

"They'd already gone to bed when we got home, right?" Ginny was watching the fireplace with her brow furrowed.

"Seemed so."

"And we didn't get home _that_ late."

"No," Harry said, wondering how Ginny could have noticed and remembered any of this, inebriated as she had been.

"So why did they oversleep then?"

Harry was about to explain that going to bed and going to sleep weren't necessarily the same thing (as she should well know) when a sudden popping noise turned his attention to the fire. The scarred face of Alastor Moody, looking even more gruesome among green flames, had appeared.

"Morning, Mad-Eye," Ginny said, through a mouth of toast.

"Miss. Weasley." He nodded his head briefly in her direction before turning to Harry. "Get a move on, Potter. You're running dangerously close to being late on your first day."

"Er . . . yeah, right." Harry checked his watch again. He had precisely ten minutes to get to the Ministry, and then up to level two. Remembering he had to account for the abundance of people in the atrium, he understood that he had budgeted his time wrong. The very last thing he wanted to do today was be late, yet he was doing a very good job of trying to accomplish that goal. "I'll be there shortly."

Moody seemed satisfied with that answer and a small pop announced that his head was gone from the fire. Harry threw down the small piece of toast he had left and headed for the fireplace himself. He still didn't care for it as a way of traveling, but he didn't have the time this morning to find a safe Apparition point. He was extremely appreciative that the Floo was a quick way to get to work. He had already grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and was about to throw it into the fireplace when the clanking of the dishes distracted him. He turned to see Ginny had her wand pointed at the sink, and the dishes were starting to clean themselves.

Seeing he was watching her, Ginny shrugged. "You know, sometimes I think Hermione forgets she's a witch."

"You might be right," Harry told her. He leaned down and gave Ginny a quick kiss. "I've got to go." Suddenly he felt a little jittery. He was off to his first day of work at the Ministry as an Auror. He'd been in training for three years, had it announced that he was an Auror yesterday. But just now, standing here looking down at Ginny, it suddenly hit him. He, Harry Potter, was now responsible for tracking down and capturing dark wizards on a daily basis. This wasn't Voldemort. It wasn't kill or be killed, but it was routine. This is what he was really going to be doing for the rest of his life.

"Harry?" Ginny was looking at him with concern. "You all right?"

He nodded. He wanted to tell her that he was thinking now maybe he had made the wrong choice. Perhaps he should have joined her in playing professional Quidditch. But now wasn't the time to start up a 'did I do the right thing?' conversation. He had made his choice, and if he didn't get going he was going to be late for his very first day on the job. That was certainly not the impression he wanted to make.

"I'll see you later."

"Have a good day. You'll do fine," Ginny said.

Harry was definitely feeling queasy now. Whether it was from the sudden cessation of spinning as he landed in the atrium at the Ministry, or what he was facing on the second floor, Harry didn't know. He supposed it didn't really matter anyway. There was no way he could deny the fact that he was feeling slightly panicky about what was going to happen when he reached the second floor. He would surely be assigned to a case today – and then what?

Navigating his way through the crowds of people was no easy task but over the last few years Harry had become somewhat adept at doing it, and garnering little notice. Today he was especially grateful for having developed this skill. The last thing he needed on his first morning in the Auror office was to be delayed by this or that person who had to stop and shake his hand for something he had done years ago, and couldn't stand to talk about. He was pleased to note that he made it all the way to the lifts before he heard a single person utter his name and when he did, it was a pleasantly familiar voice.

"Good morning, Harry. I must say it's surprising seeing you here." Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley smiling at him, holding several large scrolls of parchment under his arm.

"Hi Mr. Wea – Arthur," Harry corrected when the elder man started to scowl at him. Several years before, not long after the war with Voldemort was over Arthur and Molly had sat Harry down and told him to stop with this Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tosh. Mr. Weasley, in particular said that he had never been quite comfortable with the title himself. Mr. Weasley was his father and the last thing Arthur needed was to feel older than he already was. Harry had toyed with the idea of calling them mum and dad, something they said they would love. Somehow, even though he couldn't imagine two people who were more like his parents, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Some of it, he told himself, was because of the nature of his relationship with Ginny. It seemed inappropriate somehow to be calling them by that name; but (and it took some time for him to realize this) the more pervasive feeling was of disrespect for his parents. Harry knew this was complete rubbish, but that was the way he felt. After several years he still slipped occasionally, particularly when taken by surprise like just now.

"I'd have thought you'd be here twenty minutes ago, at least. Cutting it a little close aren't you?" Mr. Weasley bent to check his watch, with the result that several of the large scrolls teetered and fell out of his arms. Harry helped him pick them up. Once they were situated securely again Harry answered the question.

"That was the plan but we – I – overslept." His hand had gone automatically to the back of his neck as he stammered out this sentence. Damn, Ginny was right. When Harry chanced a glance at Mr. Weasley (Damn It!) he saw a fixed expression on the man's face. Clearly he was thinking – or trying not to more like – of what had gone on that morning. The vexing thing was that nothing had gone on that morning. Yesterday morning . . . well . . . but not this morning. Harry debated for a second about trying to explain that, but decided he didn't want to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole. There were some things that were strictly off-limits when it came to discussing Harry and Ginny's relationship with her father and brothers. The fact she was practically living with Harry and Ron was at the top of that list.

After some minutes of awkward silence in which both men checked their watches several times, and craned their necks to see if the lift had arrived yet, Harry changed topics entirely.

"So what're those?" He pointed at the scrolls. Arthur seized on the topic willingly.

"These are the most recent statutes on Muggle Relations and Crimes Against Muggles. Moody, Kingsley and I have a meeting about these latest attacks –" Arthur sighed heavily. "The task force has requested the assistance of my office in the search for those missing Muggles. I just got these out of the archives for later review. We're knee deep in drafting the new Muggle Protection Act." The line for the lift finally started to move. As Harry and Arthur piled in the latter added, "but you never know when these things will come in useful."

Once in the lift, which was jam-packed, they talked little. Proper etiquette seemed to forbid it. In any case, Harry was still too self-conscious to risk saying anything that might further incriminate him. On the sixth floor, half the people got out, and a short, dark-haired woman got on.

"Morning, Arthur," she said brightly. "Heading up to the meeting?"

"No, not that one. I've got a meeting with Alastor Moody and Minister Shacklebolt on two," Arthur said.

"Oh?" She sounded impressed. The doors opened on level three and she stepped out. "I shall see you later Arthur, Mr. Potter." She inclined her head in a slight bow and then walked away. Harry looked at Mr. Weasley quizzically. It never made sense to him how a woman so much closer to Arthur Weasley's age would call him by his given name but Harry was Mr. Potter? Half the time Harry felt he was in danger of forgetting his first name, because he was always Mr. Potter, Potter, or Harry Potter! There seemed to be only a handful of people who realized that his name was actually Harry.

"Arthur, Potter," Moody called as the two men emerged seconds later on level two. Moody was not alone either. Standing with him was a young man who could not have been more than a handful of years older than Harry. He had closely cropped, dirty blonde hair, a firm jaw line, and a very muscular build. This Harry observed in a flash, but he also noticed that this stranger was watching them approach with a look of disdain. This was an expression so reminiscent of Draco Malfoy that Harry felt an instant surge of dislike. He had to remind himself not to jump to snap judgments. After all, Malfoy hadn't been completely bad in the end.

"We've got to get straight to work, all four of us," Moody said. "Potter, I'd like you to meet your new supervisor –" Harry suppressed a groan with great effort, " – Bredan Tougas. Tougas you know who this is?"

Tougas nodded curtly. The way he was looking – no, glaring – at Harry was doing nothing to increase the nerves he had been feeling since leaving home. He had a strong sense of déjà vu. For many years he had been under the instruction of someone whom he shared a mutual dislike. Nothing good had come of that relationship. Harry really did not want history to repeat itself. This is why, he reminded himself again, he should not come to snap judgments. He had just met the man – perhaps Tougas was a decent bloke. Stranger things had happened.

"I trust you'll have no problems showing young Potter here the ropes?" Moody asked.

"No, sir, none at all." He looked directly at Harry, a malicious glint in his eyes, as though daring challenge those words. Having no plans to do so, Harry felt this accomplished nothing except getting him to like Tougas less. The three to twelve months Harry was required to have a direct report supervisor were going to be excruciating, there was no doubt about that.

"We haven't got time to sit herr chit chatting all day, gentlemen," Moody said. He turned to Arthur. "Whenever you're ready Arthur."

"The sooner the better."

Moody turned back to address Tougas. "As both you and Potter here also have busy days I suggest you show him around so he can get started. You've got other work to do too, remember!"

Was Harry mistaken in thinking there was something of a warning in Moody's expression and his words? He wasn't given long to dwell on this question at all. Within seconds Moody and Arthur had disappeared behind the closed door, Tougas spared it one frown and then spun on his heel and started walking away, without giving Harry the slightest acknowledgement. This was certainly a form of treatment Harry wasn't used to. There were less than half a dozen people who ever ignored him: his aunt, uncle and cousin when he was younger, and Severus Snape (the latter being very infrequently indeed).

"You coming, or what?" Tougas barked, snapping Harry back to the present. Without saying a word he hastened to catch up.

Given his relationships with the Minister for Magic, the current head of the Auror office, and one of the current active Aurors (Tonks), Harry had a better opportunity to spend time in the department than most of his fellow trainees. It was an opportunity he took. The first thing he had noted, and it surprised him somewhat, was the fact that the department was rather small. At any given time there were a maximum of four-dozen Aurors on staff. This was about one-tenth the size of the ordinary Law Enforcement patrol.

As he had been here several times before and done a pretty thorough job of exploring the place with Moody and Tonks, Harry could see little point to taking another tour. He suspected that this might be Moody's attempt at helping to build rapport between himself and Tougas. If that were the case, he would not be pleased to know that it seemed to be failing miserably. Tougas was one of the least talkative people Harry had ever met. He walked along at a steady pace, and would point out where spare parchment and quills were, where the memo sheets were kept, the interview rooms for victims or suspects, and then finally the cubicles where several Aurors were already hard at work, reading and writing reports. They barely looked up as the two men passed.

As Harry had thought it would be, the 'tour' was over very shortly when he was shown to his cubicle. Unlike his neighbors, Harry's new workspace was currently devoid of papers and wall hangings. He was looking around the small, unremarkable cube, trying to adjust to the idea that he actually was an Auror, when Tougas spoke again.

"Here." He was holding up a thick roll of parchment. That had to be twelve feet long at least. Harry took it, somewhat reluctantly, owing to the renewed wave of nerves he was feeling. This was his first case. It seemed so sudden. Not ten minutes ago he was standing downstairs talking with Mr. Weasley about almost being late for work, and now he was actually being set to it. Yes, he had been training for this very thing for the last several years, but to have it come to fruition . . .

"Thanks," Harry said, hearing the trepidation in his voice and hating it. The best thing for him to do would be to get started right away. He always handled doing things better than thinking about them. Tougas, however, had a few more things to say.

"I'll let you know from the first Potter that just because you're famous out there –" he gestured toward the lifts "- does not mean you can get away with not doing the same work as the others. Bear in mind, I know all about your supposed triumph over You-Know-Who. It was a lucky chance that prevented you getting everyone killed. Be warned now Potter, I will not tolerate stunts like that, even from you."

It was with immense effort that Harry said only, "yes, sir." There were so many other things he wanted to say to Tougas just now. Yes, he might have read about what happened. But it was highly doubtful that he actually knew what went on the night of Voldemort's downfall. The only person other than Harry who knew what happened was Ginny. She was the only other person who was there after all.

"Good. Then I suggest you get to work. I expect a report on that document on my desk before you leave today." He turned on his heel and walked away. At the end of the row, Harry saw Tougas meet up with a tiny witch with mousy brown hair.

"Potter, hey Potter." Harry turned around. It was Romeo de Rossi. He was leaning over his cubicle from the next row.

"Hey Rossi, what's up?"

"Did you see them?"

"Who?"

Romeo rolled his eyes, as though he thought Harry was trying to play with him. "The Task Force. They're meeting in that room right over there." He pointed to a room close to the elevators, between Moody's office and the archives.

"Yeah?" Harry looked in that direction, but could not see anything.

"I'd love to get in that room," Rossi said. Harry couldn't honestly say he agreed with that sentiment, he and Tonks (as far as he knew) were probably the only two in the whole department who did not want to be in that room.

There were six Aurors (seven if Moody was included, even though he was technically only serving in an advisory capacity) working together to track down the two most wanted Death Eaters: Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. It was common belief, both within the Task Force and in the Auror department as a whole, that they were responsible for the recent increase in dark activity, and the three cases (as yet unsolved) of missing Muggle-Borns.

When the task force was first formed two years previous it was the talk of the department (including those currently in training). Everyone assumed that Harry would want to join straight away. He had given it some thought, but the only reason he would want to join would be to track down Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's killer. But one of the first things they had been told in training was not to make the job personal. At that time it had only been a year since the battle with Voldemort. Remembering how personal that had been, Harry had no inclination to ever get involved in a case like that.

Rossi, seeing that he was not going to get the reaction out of Harry that he wanted, turned to some of their fellow trainees who were more agreeable to this discussion. Harry sat down and unrolled the scroll. Across the top was written:

Yaxley, Damien

Charges:

Use of the Cruciatus Curse on Lorenzo Abbot

Use Of Avada Kedavra Curse On Lorenzo Abbot

Use Of Cruciatus Curse On Kathleen Abbot

Use Of Avada Kedavra Curse On Kathleen Abbot

Wanted for questioning on:

-involvement in the murder of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore

-Death Eater Membership and possible other crimes perpetrated under the direction of deceased Dark Wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Even in official documents, four years after Voldemort's death, people still refused to say the name. Harry could not stop himself from rolling his eyes. This shocked him far less than learning that Yaxley, who had indeed been on that astronomy tower the night Dumbledore was murdered, was the one that had killed Hannah Abbot's parents. He vaguely remembered hearing about their deaths during his last year at Hogwarts. At the time they hadn't known which Death Eater it was. How they had found out, Harry didn't know, but it had to have been information they got from another captured Death Eater. It had to be pretty strong evidence, whatever the case, if Yaxley had already been charged.

The remainder of the parchment contained boring legalese that would matter a lot more when Yaxley was caught and went on trial in front of the Wizengamot. At the very bottom of the long document, were hand written notes. Harry paid the most attention to these as they contained what he considered to be the most useful information: reported sightings, possible locations, and crucial (and largely unknown) family histories.

It took much longer than Harry thought to read that report. By the time he finished nearly everyone had gone to lunch. After grabbing a quick bite with Rossi, it was back to work on the summary that Tougas had requested. It seemed like make-work to Harry. Wasn't reading the bloody thing enough? Did Tougas doubt him so much that he was using this task to make sure Harry actually read the report?

As the afternoon hours raced by, Harry found his attention starting to wane. The legalese that comprised two-thirds of the document was as dull as a History of Magic lesson. More than once he found himself nodding off. As such it was a near miracle he was able to finish his analysis by the end of the day. He dotted his last sentence feeling triumphant. At least he wouldn't have to bring work home as had become custom during his training.

"What the hell is this?" Tougas asked moments later, after skimming Harry's report. "If I wanted a summary I'd have read the report myself. Were you not listening to me when I specifically said I wanted an analysis? I want this redone by tomorrow morning." He threw the parchment back at Harry. "Now get out of here."

Harry snatched up the parchment and left, walking away quickly so that he couldn't do something he would later regret. Tougas had asked for a report. That's what Harry gave him, not a summary. What exactly was he looking for? His evening wouldn't be free after all.

Twenty minutes later Harry was stepping out of the fireplace into his own flat. He could see Ginny sprawled out on the couch. It looked like she was sleeping. She was always worn out after training, and given how rough she had been feeling this morning Harry didn't want to wake her. As quietly as he could he crept over to the small area that had been designated as his work area (no one could realistically call it an office) and threw his scrolls on the desk.

"Hi."

Harry turned around to see Ginny sitting up.

"Hi. Did I wake you?" he asked crossing over to the sofa.

"Nah, I wasn't sleeping. How was work?" she asked, sitting up to make room for him. Harry sighed choosing to lean back instead of answer the question. Work had been lousy. He didn't much feel like talking about it. He didn't need to. "That well, hey?" She cuddled up to him. Putting his arm around her Harry changed topics.

"What about you? How're you feeling?"

"Fine. Just worn out. The first practice of the season is always like that though."

"Yeah. Maybe the first day is always the hardest," Harry said, glancing back at the pile of papers on his desk. He should probably get started on that report. The sooner he started the sooner he'd be finished.

"What's all that you brought home?"

Harry just started to tell her about Tougas when the fireplace burst into life and Ron and Hermione fell out. They were beaming as they brushed the soot off their robes. Harry and Ginny gave each other curious looks before returning their attention back to their friends.

"Hey. Sorry we're late," Ron said.

"Yeah. I was starting to wonder where you two got to," Ginny stated.

It was Ron and Hermione's turn to exchange a glance, looking like they were glowing.

"We had a few things to sort out before we told you." It was Hermione's turn to speak. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, but didn't say more. Instead she looked at Ron, who took up the story.

"We're late tonight because we were in Hogsmeade. Fred and George are finally opening a shop there and they've asked me to run it."

"Wow, Ron, that's great." Ginny and Harry got up to congratulate Ron on his promotion. He looked mighty pleased with himself. And it's well deserved, thought Harry. Ron had been working with the twins for the last four years. He admitted himself that he did not have the greatest skills in the inventing arena, but some of his suggestions for running the business had been ingenious. Business at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had surpassed all records after the war, helped along nicely by Ron's contributions.

"Yeah. They asked me last week, but told me to keep it quiet _or else_!"

"And with Fred and George you take that request seriously," Ginny said. Harry agreed wholeheartedly with her assertion. This news was too good to think about Fred and George's more dangerous inventions though. He was on the verge of saying they needed to celebrate when Ron made another announcement.

"The Hogsmeade branch will be ready to open in about a month. As I'm going to be spending so much time there, particularly close to, and right after opening, I decided that it might make more sense if I had a place up there. We've been looking for places together." He put an arm around Hermione.

It took just a second for Harry and Ginny to clue into what Ron was saying. He was going to be moving out, that much didn't need to be thought through. But –

"You two are moving in together, officially?" Ginny asked, glancing at Harry yet again, before turning back to Ron and Hermione to confirm their guess was correct.

"Yes. Yes we are," Hermione said, in a voice that was a little squeaky from the excitement she had been trying very hard to bottle up. She couldn't contain it anymore though. She let out a little scream and hugged Ginny who was taken by surprise.

"A little out of the blue, isn't it?" Harry asked Ron. "Have you two even talked about this before?"

"Not to death, but it has been mentioned. I guess it _was_ a little out of the blue, but it just felt right. You know?"

"Yeah."

Harry looked over at Hermione and Ginny. The former was still in a highly excitable state and was talking nonstop. Ginny was trying to listen to her, but Harry noticed she didn't seem completely focused. She would smile or nod in all the right places, but certainly didn't share Hermione's enthusiasm. Did she also think that this was very sudden?

"We're still going to be here until after Christmas," Ron said, drawing Harry's attention away from Ginny. "That's OK, right?"

"Yeah, great," Harry replied, still not completely focused on his friend.

"Good. Listen, Harry . . . " Ron pulled him a little farther away from the girls and lowered his voice. "You're OK with this, me and Hermione moving in together?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. I just thought that . . . she says you're like a brother to her. When Ginny started staying over here a lot, you made sure I was OK with it . . . I just wanted to return the favor."

"Thanks, Ron. If you two want to move in together, I say go for it."

Harry again thought it was time to celebrate, but Ron and Hermione had one more announcement to make.

"You're engaged?" Ginny asked incredulously, looking at the ring on Hermione's finger that was being held out to her. The broad grins on both faces answered the question. Turning to Harry Ginny said, "well I guess we know why they slept in this morning, eh?"

Rather than looking embarrassed, the grins on their faces seemed to increase, and they nodded enthusiastically. The abundance of questions like whether this was too fast, what had got into them, and others of that ilk were driven from Harry's mind. One thing was quite clear: they were exceedingly happy. Wasn't that all that mattered? Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because she then said a celebration was in order.

After the previous evening Ginny refused to drink anything stronger than Butterbeer. Harry joined her while Ron and Hermione opened a bottle of champagne.

"Mum's going to be disgusting. You haven't told her yet have you?" Ginny asked after they had toasted the occasion.

"Er . . . no." Ron cringed. "Don't tell her, will you?"

A dangerous spark flared up in Ginny's eye. "I wouldn't dare think of it. But you have to let me tell the twins."

Ron turned a light shade of green. This made the other three laugh spraying more than one beverage across the table. The idea of the twins' reactions allowed for at least ten minutes of hilarious speculation. Even Ron joined in with a few suggestions about what they would do to Harry and Ginny when their day came.

It was with the deepest reluctance that Harry extricated himself from the celebration to get to work on his report. This seemed the cue to break up the celebration all together. Ginny returned to the sofa and picked up a book she'd been reading on Quidditch tactics. Ron and Hermione tried to sneak off to his room without being seen but as the flat was rather small they failed miserably. Harry and Ginny exchanged smirks before returning to their own activities.

All was silent in the flat but for the shuffling of parchment, and the occasional sound of Ginny turning a page, which ceased all together after about an hour. Harry worked on his report for three more hours. When he had added what he hoped was sufficient analysis he gave up for the night. If he had to read any more wizarding law his brain might just turn to mush.

Ginny had fallen asleep. She must have done so some time before because she was snoring lightly. She looked so content that Harry was reluctant to disturb her. She did this a lot, falling asleep on the sofa. He had told her before that it was OK just to go to bed. It was a lot more comfortable than sleeping on that scratchy old sofa. In winter though he couldn't really fault her. It was much warmer out here than it was in the bedroom, especially when you were sleeping alone, something they didn't do very often because neither of them liked to anymore.

It was almost twelve-thirty, they both needed to get some actual sleep lest they repeat the chaos of the previous morning, and there was still something Harry wanted to talk to Ginny about. He'd been thinking about it for some time, but after tonight's announcement . . .

Sneaking over to the sofa, Harry leaned down and placed a light kiss on Ginny's lips. She let out a small sigh, but was still sleeping. Twice more he repeated his actions before her eyes flickered open. After getting over her momentary disorientation, Ginny asked, "did I fall asleep?"

"Yep. But now it's late, we've got to actually go to sleep." Harry tapped his watch. He helped her up and they retired. Once they were safely snuggled together in bed, Harry felt it was safe to bring up the subject.

"Gin, you awake?" That was a stupid question; she could not possibly have fallen asleep that quickly. This was not starting out smoothly at all.

"Yeah." She rolled over to face him.

"How do you feel about Ron and Hermione?" 

"What about them? The moving in together, or the engagement?"

"All of it."

"They seem happy."

"Yeah they do."

"But you were there, Harry. You surely didn't need to ask to know the answer. So what's up?"

It was dark in the room, but a streetlamp outside the window was shining in, casting a light tin Ginny's eyes. If he wasn't mistaken, she was also smiling roguishly. Feeling a little less apprehensive now, Harry ran a hand through her hair.

"I was just thinking . . . all of the reasons for you not to move in here have been nullified now, haven't they?"

Damn, that didn't come out quite right.

"I suppose," Ginny said curtly, sitting up. "Is this your way of asking me to move in?"

"A pitiful attempt, but . . . yeah." Harry sat up too. "It didn't come out right at all, but –"

"You know, Harry, just because Ron and Hermione are going to do it, doesn't mean we have to too."

"You're right. It has nothing to do with them, other than the fact he won't be here anymore. Didn't we say that it would have been a little too weird to have both of you living here? Not that it really mattered, you're here ninety-five percent of the time anyway." Harry smiled, hoping she'd understand he liked that she stayed here so much.

"So you assume that means I'm just going to jump at the chance to move in here? What is it with you and my brother? He spent half his life thinking he needed to compete with you, and now you're doing the exact same thing." She sounded both disgusted and annoyed and her voice was rising.

"Didn't I just tell you it has nothing to do with Ron?" Harry asked, his own temper starting to flare up. "I just thought . . . now he's leaving, we won't have to worry about that awkwardness. And, as you're here so much it wouldn't be that much of a change, would it?"

"It would be a huge change. There's a big difference me staying over as opposed to living here," Ginny said, her voice returning to it's normal volume, though still sounding a little annoyed. "Ron and Hermione might be fool enough to jump into things, but I don't think we're ready for that yet."

"You think it's foolish for us to live together?" Harry asked.

"No. Wrong choice of words," Ginny replied, not sounding at all like she really thought that. "Let's just go to sleep, it's late." She lay down, and turned away from Harry. What exactly had he said that was so wrong? Why was she so tetchy lately?


	3. The Peaking Luck

Chapter Three: The Peaking Luck

The Burrow was certainly not built to accommodate sixteen people, Harry thought as they all sat down to Christmas dinner. The house had been full to bursting during his years at Hogwarts when only he and Hermione had swelled the already large number of Weasleys. Adding Fleur, Riley and Simon (Bill and Fleur's twin toddlers), and Mr. and Mrs. Granger seemed unwise in the extreme. As it was December it was too cold to eat out in the garden, so they were all crammed into the sitting room (today serving as a slightly larger dining area). Harry found himself squeezed between Ron and Ginny.

"Sardines have more room," Ron said grumpily as he reached for a roll and accidentally stuck his elbow in the gravy.

"Stop complaining already," Hermione said testily from his left.

"Yeah Ronniekins, quit complaining," Fred said from across the table. He and George each had a twin on their lap and were teaching them the finer art of using utensils to launch food across the table. Both sets of twins were completely ignoring Bill and Fleur's remonstrations.

"Yes, you know you do seem more on edge today than normal," Percy commented as he used his wand to clean the mashed potato that Riley had lobbed at him. "Is something the matter?"

"No – nothing," Ron stated not meeting anyone's eyes. He hastily looked at Hermione, who looked just as nervous, and then returned to his food, mentioning nothing else about their cramped conditions.

Harry and Ginny exchanged smirks before applying themselves to their own food. They both knew perfectly well that Ron and Hermione were on edge because they planned to announce to the rest of the family that they were moving in together in just over a week and, even more importantly, that they were engaged. Ron had admitted to Harry the previous night that he wasn't quite sure he was ready to have the mickey taken out of him for this.

No one seemed to notice Ron and Hermione's glance, or Harry and Ginny's for that matter because at that precise moment Simon (who had somehow got hold of George's wand) levitated the large tureen of gravy. It rose up like a cork and hit the ceiling. The force with which it did so caused the dish to crack and nearly everyone was deluged in gravy.

"That's my boy, Simon. That's my boy," George called jovially as he took his wand back.  

"George, that's not funny," both Mrs. Weasley and Bill yelled as everyone pulled out their own wands to clean up the mess.

"Babies always wear their food, he just wanted to share the experience," Fred said, also with a huge smirk.

After an uneventful dessert the dishes were cleared away and the sitting room returned to its usual state. In the chaos this transformation caused Ginny leaned over to Ron and Hermione, who were both very green.

"Bill and Fleur are leaving in a few minutes, don't you think you should make your big announcement?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. They both seemed to be steeling themselves to do it. Then, looking as though they might prefer to Disapparate, they stood up together.

"Er . . . " Hermione started, but her voice was so quiet that she could not possibly be heard over the din.

"Hey everyone," Ginny called loudly. "Pipe down, Ron and Hermione have something they want to say."

The noise died almost at once. Everyone's attention was now focused on Ron and Hermione. Ron glared at Ginny, who did nothing but smile sweetly at him.

"Er . . . " Hermione said again and looked at Ron for help. He, however, seemed like he might never speak again. Hermione fixed him with an angry look before taking a deep breath and plowing on. "Well . . . yes . . . Ginny's quite right. There are a few things that we wanted to let you all know. Um . . . " She nudged Ron in the ribs.

"Ouch . . . why'd you –" But with a significant look from Hermione, he raised his gaze to face the fourteen pairs of eyes that were staring at him. "I – I guess she wants me to tell you." He tried to smile, but it came as more of a grimace. "All right. We'll here goes . . . "

Ron took a deep breath, glanced around at the eleven other members of his family, at Hermione's parents, and finally at Harry, who gave him the thumbs up. Taking another deep breath he stood there, on the verge of speech.

"Today, Ron. Some of us have a portkey to catch." Bill was looking at Ron, not with impatience, but expectantcy.

"Right. OK. Well . . . " Ron looked at Hermione, who also seemed to be getting a little impatient. "OK, here's the thing. Everyone here knows that I'm going to be running the shop in Hogsmeade, right?"

"And we couldn't be more proud," Mrs. Weasley stated with a huge smile on her face.

"Thanks." His face a little pink, Ron continued. "Well, as I'm going to be spending a lot of time there. I thought it would make more sense if I got my own place there."

"'Bout time too," Harry couldn't stop himself from saying. Everyone, including Ron and Hermione, laughed. Ron seemed to loosen up just a tad.

"Thanks, mate. Anyway . . . after living here all my life, and then in the icebox that's Harry's flat I wouldn't know what to do with all of the space in a house. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, mind. So . . . " He trailed off again and looked down at Hermione. She was still a little green, but smiled up at him happily. Ron put his arm around her before he spoke again " . . . I asked Hermione to move in with me."

"And I agreed," Hermione said, a large grim playing across her face. Even though she was positively beaming, Harry saw her glance nervously at her parents, who were watching her and Ron closely, their expressions unreadable.

"You – you did what?" asked Mrs. Weasley in a soft voice. All eyes turned to her. If there was someone that was going to react badly to this news it was she. And, given her temper, it would be no laughing matter. Seeing this potential problem, Ron spoke up again.

"It just seemed the right thing to do . . . you know, given that we're also going to – to get married?" He said these last three words quietly. The sitting room was so silent that they could hear a pin drop. Everyone was waiting for Mrs. Weasley's reaction.

"You're what?" she asked, a hand over her mouth, her expression still unclear.

"We're engaged," Hermione said, her smile faltering a little. She glanced at Ron, possibly trying to determine how they should react.

"You're engaged?" Mrs. Weasley repeated weakly, her hand now moving to her heart. "You're getting married. _You're getting married_?" She scrutinized the pair of them, as though checking to make sure they weren't just figments of her imagination. Ron and Hermione nodded uncertainly.

"Arthur, did you hear that?" Mrs. Weasley turned to face her husband. "They're engaged."

"Yes, dear," he said, a smile on his face as he watched his wife's reaction.

The lack of movement in the room was such that Harry thought they had all somehow been placed under the full body bind curse. Then –

"Oh, this is so wonderful," Mrs. Weasley cried, running over and pulling Ron and Hermione into a tight embrace. Her reaction seemed to unfreeze everyone. Fred and George wolf whistled. Ron's five brothers each took it in their turn to come over and clap him on the back, offering their congratulations.

"Listen, Ron, we've got to go," Bill said a few minutes later, nodding to Fleur who was putting on her traveling cloak. "But I just wanted to offer my congratulations to you. Finally got sick of mum's harping, eh?" He winked at Ron, gave Hermione a quick kiss on the cheek and then snatched up Simon and followed Fleur and Riley out the door.

For the remainder of their visit there was no other topic of conversation, at least among the women. Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Granger were over in their own corner, in full flow about the wedding. Harry, who was clustered over on the other side of the room with the men who were good-naturedly teasing Ron about the engagement, couldn't help but glance over at Ginny more than was probably normal. Was it just his imagination, or did she not look happy? He thought back to the night he'd asked her to move in.

Harry had difficulty falling asleep after his disastrous attempt at asking Ginny to move in with him. He watched her sleep for two hours, wondering how it was that he could have made such an ass of himself. Yes, he had essentially assumed that she was going to jump at the chance to move in. Yes she was practically living there already . . . but even so, he should have asked in a much better way. It had only been when he'd worked out his apology verbatim that Harry was finally able to get to sleep. He'd planned to tell her in the morning but hadn't been given that opportunity for when he woke up sue was gone. In her place was a hastily scribbled note saying she'd been neglecting her family spending so much time at Harry's flat. She was going to go home to the Burrow for a few days.

The fact Ginny hadn't stayed over since their (for lack of a better word) argument bothered Harry much less than the current state of their relationship. Ginny readily accepted his apology when Harry offered it and was quick to offer her own in return, yet everything was not as it once was. The few times they had seen each other over the past weeks had been punctuated by a tension neither of them had ever experienced in their relationship before. They were being overly polite with each other, something that everyone was quick to notice. Today had been no different.

"Harry, you still with us?" Ron snapped his fingers right in front of Harry's face. Reluctantly Harry turned his attention away from Ginny.

"What?"

"You weren't listening at all were you?"

"No, sorry,"

"Blimey Harry," said Charlie. "You should at least try to keep your eyes in your head around us." Everyone except Percy let out a tiny laugh. Percy glanced from Harry to Ginny with a small frown on his face. Ignoring this usual reaction, Harry smiled a little, in spite of the embarrassment he felt.

"Mind you, he's not as bad as Ron was with Phlegm," Ginny said, coming over to stand behind Harry.

"Hey," Ron shouted, "I wasn't that bad."

"Yeah, right," Ginny said as Harry snorted, remembering quite clearly Ron's reaction to Fleur during their fourth year. "I seem to remember you taking every opportunity to get a simple kiss from her. It was quite pathetic."

Looking like he wasn't sure whether he should be embarrassed or angry, Ron left his seat and went to join Hermione. As he sat down beside her he gave Ginny a dirty look and then turned his attention to the discussion occurring between the three women.

"He must really have wanted to get away from us if he's gone to sit with them and listen to their prattle about wedding plans," Ginny said. She watched them thoughtfully for a second before seeming to come back to herself. She sat down in Ron's vacated seat and proceeded to get into an argument with the twins over Quidditch fouls. This was a rare topic with her. Given that Quidditch took up so much of her time none of the family begrudged her desire not to discuss it during her off time.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger had arrived at the Burrow with Ron and Hermione by side-along Apparition and were being returned home in that same manner. Ginny decided to once again remain at the Burrow so Harry was to be found sitting alone in his flat several hours later. He had lit a fire to combat the chill in the air.

As he watched the flames Harry could not help but contemplate what could have been going through Ginny's mind earlier. What had she been thinking? Her reaction when he asked her to move in with him made Harry quite certain that jealousy was one thing she didn't feel. But what was going on with her lately? She'd been touchy for ages now. The fact she was unhappy was most troubling especially because, not knowing what was causing her to feel that way, there was nothing Harry could do to help.

Straining to try and recall anything that could give him a clue as to what was causing Ginny's moodiness, Harry didn't immediately notice that the flames had turned green. It was only when a rapidly spinning figure appeared in the fire that Harry completely registered someone was there at all. For a split second he thought it was Ron or Hermione returning. He simultaneously realized two things. The first was that Ron and Hermione were going to her parents. Muggle fireplaces could not be connected to the Floo Network so how on earth would Ron and Hermione have Flooed home. At the same time he realized that while the figure did have red hair, it was a lot smaller than Ron.

Ginny stepped out of the fireplace dusting soot off her sweater. She didn't look up.

"I thought that you were staying home tonight?" Harry asked.

"We have to talk," she replied negating the need for a more formal greeting. When the last vestige of ash had been brushed away Ginny came and sat down beside Harry on the sofa. "I've been spending a great deal of time thinking over the last couple of weeks."

Not sure that good news was coming Harry simply said, "Oh?"

"Yes. I owe you an apology."

"You owe me an apology?'

This was unprecedented. Harry could not recall a situation in which Ginny ever had to apologize to him. He wasn't quite sure how to handle it. His shock must have shown because Ginny let out a small giggle before returning to her serious manner again.

"It was that stupid Rita Skeeter article. I know I shouldn't let her get to me," she added quickly before Harry could say anything. "It was just one too many I guess . . ." She stopped again, now frowning.

"Rita Skeeter isn't known for spreading cheer for the subjects she writes about," Harry said.

"Too right. Well, that just put me in a bad mood and that made me a little snippy with you."

"Its fine." There had to be more to what she wanted to tell him though. If he remembered correctly that particular article had come out the day before he'd asked Ginny to move in. While he certainly understood Rita Skeeter's power to rile people, Ginny was not one to let those types of tabloid stories bother her for that long. There was no way that everything could be explained away by that story, particularly when taking into account that Ginny had been snippy before it even came out. He opened his mouth to ask her if it was just that article, but she was speaking again.

"I'm not saying I don't ever want to move in, but now's just not the right time."

"Sure." It had just been a suggestion after all. While Harry would have liked it very much if Ginny was staying with him permanently, he wasn't going to stake everything on her answer, especially now. He had more pressing concerns at the moment, chief among them getting to the bottom of why she had been acting so strange as of late.

"Oh, good. I'd been worrying that you would be really mad about this."

"No. It'll happen when it's right. But Gin –"

The opening of the door announced Ron and Hermione's return.

"Ginny?"

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked. "I thought you were staying at the Burrow tonight."

"I changed my mind," Ginny answered. "I hope you don't mind, Ron."

"I suppose not," he replied.

Ron and Hermione's return put an end to all seriousness for the rest of the night. Harry did watch Ginny closely and was greatly relieved to see her once again being her cheerful self. She spent the majority of the evening teasing Ron about being in the heart of wedding plans. He took her comments very well indeed, laughing heartily.

As they lay in bed later that night Harry's mind returned to the question he had been about to ask Ginny before Ron and Hermione returned. He knew he still had to ask her. He wanted to know precisely why she had been acting so strange lately so they could deal with it. But those questions could wait for now. He felt it would be pressing his luck to push Ginny into answering questions that were likely to upset her again.

The week between Christmas and New Year's Harry found himself with some unexpected time off, which he put to good use. Ron and Hermione were going to move into their house in Hogsmeade right on New Year's Day. As Ginny also had the week free of training the four friends were able to spend time together. Now they had dealt with the issues that had plagued them over the last weeks, it was as if that argument had never happened. Ginny had even been staying over again. Things were going so well that Harry had almost completely forgotten that he had not found out the root cause of Ginny's behaviour. It was only Ron who seemed to have anything to say about their newly mended relationship.

"Let's be glad we're getting out of here. We'll miss the explosion," he said quietly to Hermione, but was still overheard by Harry and Ginny, who both glared at him wiping the smile off his face.

His stint of living alone had been so short as to be considered nonexistent. It had been just a month after he'd moved in that Ron had come to join him. It wasn't like Harry was alone now; Ginny _had_ been staying over nearly every night since Christmas. But the fact was that she didn't live here, and it just wasn't the same. Once Ron and Hermione small flat somehow seemed overly large, and very empty. Luckily, thanks to work, he didn't have too much time to dwell on this unhappy thought.

The death of Voldemort created chaos both at the Ministry and amongst the Death Eaters. Once he had confirmed that Voldemort was in fact dead Scrimgeour wasted no time disbanding all of the special departments that had been set up. Those witches and wizards who had been assigned to special departments like the one Mr. Weasley had headed were reassigned to the hunt for Death Eaters. This decision created a fiasco for the Ministry. People were furious that the Minister for Magic, himself a former Auror, thought it wise to allow people from administrative positions to track down dark wizards. It turned out to be another nail in Scrimgeour coffin, particularly with the abundance of injuries sustained. When Kingsley was appointed Minister one of the first things he did was to restrict the tracking and capturing of Death Eaters to law enforcement personnel, a much wiser decision on the whole.

After the death of Dumbledore Voldemort's self-made claim of being the most powerful wizard in the world was no longer in dispute. His followers took full advantage of their impunity to pursue their favorite activities: torture and murder. With the death of their master it was natural to expect upheaval within their organization. They could no longer count on Voldemort's protection to keep them from being caught. It took some time for them to realize this though, allowing for quite a few Death Eaters to be caught and imprisoned by the Ministry. Some of the wiser and more future minded of that lot had gone to ground.

Harry was extremely glad Yaxley could be counted among those Death Eaters who had deemed it prudent to lay low. He'd been free for over four years; this was time enough to cause innumerable atrocities. Harry knew they were getting close to making a move on Yaxley. They had a pretty good stack of information that he was hiding in an abandoned building in Manchester, but had not yet made their move. Tougas kept insisting that they were not ready, and he was not going to leave anything to luck like Harry had a tendency to do. Harry couldn't suppress the feeling that Tougas was just having him sit on his hands, too keen on lording his position to relent. Harry was quite familiar with this tactic, given that it seemed to be a favorite of Snape, and his aunt and uncle before that. Apparently he had been wrong in thinking that the importance of their job would prevent such behaviour.

When Harry returned to work the day after Ron and Hermione's departure it was with the expectation that nothing would have changed. He'd still be pouring over parchments filled with Yaxley's crimes and discussing tactics with Tougas. It was the latter that he dreaded the most. Like Snape, Tougas seemed to think any idea that came out of Harry's mouth was complete rubbish. On more than one occasion Harry had to use a considerable amount of restraint not to jinx the idiot. However when they met for the first time in the New Year Tougas surprised him.

Harry had just sat down in his cubicle and started pouring over a map of the Manchester Waterfront. He was making sure he had it all committed to memory, as Tougas had demanded. He was pleased with himself when he realized he did. That triumphant feeling was short-lived. At that precise moment Tougas put in his first appearance of the day.

"Potter, what are you doing?" he demanded.

"Just going over this," Harry said, holding up the map.

"I'd have thought you'd know it already. Surely after four weeks –"

"I do," Harry interrupted. "I was just making sure." He found it extremely hard to keep his annoyance in check. He hadn't quite worked out why Tougas seemed to dislike him so much. He tried not to think about it.

"Come with me." Looking like he still doubted was Harry told him, Tougas beckoned Harry to follow him. Not sure what to expect Harry hastened to follow Tougas. He dearly hoped he wasn't going to have another ream shoved of parchment at him. He really thought he'd read more in the last four weeks than his entire six years at Hogwarts. Tougas led Harry, not to the file room that held thousands of scrolls (records of centuries worth of cases) but to the Apparition point on their floor.

"Where are we going?"

"Manchester," Tougas said simply.

"Wha – Oh." Harry felt excitement and trepidation well up inside him. This was it! After weeks and weeks they were finally going to arrest Yaxley. They were going to capture the scumbag who thought it funny to mercilessly murder Hannah Abbot's parents, who had been there the night that Dumbledore had been killed, and who had participated in untold numbers of horrors under Voldemort's reign of terror. Finally, they were going.

"Hold it." Tougas stuck out his hand to stop Harry entering the Apparition area. "Don't think, Potter, that we're running off to pick him up without checking out the area first. We don't even know for sure he's still there. One false move and we could lose him again."

"Of course," Harry replied, trying to contain his anticipation. "We've got to go careful. If we move in –"

"We're just scouting today. Don't go getting any ideas about some hotheaded, poorly planned mission. You don't have Dumbledore to get you out of this mess you know."

"Especially since he's been dead for four and a half years," Harry replied irritably. How out of the blue was that comment" He'd been in plenty of sticky situations and hadn't had Dumbledore bail him out.

"Good. So we're clear that this is a covert, _surveillance only_ mission?"

"Yes. But if we get the opportunity –" Harry started. He could not shake the feeling that if they didn't act Yaxley would slip through their grasp again.

"No, Potter. Surveillance only!"

"Fine," Harry said, feeling mutinous. He wasn't planning on rushing at Yaxley's hideout without first investigating the protective spells that had surely been set up. It was sheer pig-headedness to refuse the opportunity to apprehend the Death Eater if it should arise. And, he thought trying to clear his mind as they prepared to Apparate, they should have done this weeks ago rather than going over the stack of parchment on the case until every fibre on the paper was emblazoned on their retinas. At least they were finally doing something though.

Not knowing exactly how far Yaxley had extended his protective spells, they Apparated at least a mile away from his hideout then began the painstaking task of finding the spot at which the magical protection began. They would need to know this for when they finally came to make their arrest. It would certainly not do to set off Yaxley's intruder alerts before they were ready to take him into custody. The caution they needed to employ here meant it was likely to take days to map out his defences, which was precisely the reason Harry felt their time would have been better spent doing this than sitting back at the office. There was no point harping on the matter though. They were here now and there was a great deal of work to be done.

It took three weeks of skulking around the Manchester Waterfront before they were sure they'd mapped out all of Yaxley's protective spells. During that time they didn't see so much as a wand tip from that building. If it hadn't been for the fact that his protective spells were there, they would have thought the building was uninhabited.

By the third week of January a constant rain and chilly north wind were their daily companions, causing Harry's patience to ebb once again. During the last week they had discovered nothing new of consequence. Why was it Tougas was delaying? Caution was fine, Harry thought, pushing his sodden fringe out of his eyes, but if they didn't act soon Yaxley was going to find out they were tracking him and he was going to scarper.

Tougas's need to do everything in triplicate was making Harry very ill tempered indeed. They spent day nineteen lurking outside the magical sensors. They were staring at the building, rechecking for weak areas in which Yaxley could possibly escape. This, too, was something they'd done on several previous occasions. The sheets of icy rain and gale force winds were not making this a pleasant day at all. As dark approached it became harder to stay out of the charmed area (which was already a difficult feat owing to the strong winds). A particularly vicious gust of wind coupled with an uneven stretch of ground caused Harry to overbalance. He managed to prevent himself falling, but he had stumbled right into the boundary of the charmed area.

"You idiot," Tougas hissed. His words were barely discernable over the howling wind. He pulled out his wand, conjured some canaries and directing them further into the charmed area. Then he grabbed Harry's arm and twisted away.

Seconds later they were standing in the Apparition area in Auror headquarters, dripping onto the carpet.

"Tell me something Potter, exactly who did you bewitch to let you into this department?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't trust himself not to blow up completely. They'd been wasting time for weeks now, doing their damnedest to catch pneumonia, out on a freezing cold street in the middle of a hurricane, and Tougas was angry at him for nearly getting blown to Azkaban?

"Good way to waste seven weeks worth of work, Potter." Tougas started to storm away before thinking better of it and spinning around. "Given your supposed skills as a seeker, I'd have thought you'd be a little more coordinated. I suppose that was another of those stories that was blown out of proportion, too?"

The smug look on Tougas's face, rather than the slight about his seeking skills, is what goaded Harry into retorting, "Yeah, well we wouldn't have to worry about it if we'd taken Yaxley weeks ago like we should have."

Tougas had started to walk away again, but at Harry's words he spun around so fast and pointed his wand at Harry, who was ready for this exact thing, and had his own wand out. It would not be a good thing to attack his supervisor, he didn't need to be told that. On the other hand, though, Tougas had been goading him for weeks.

"The last time I checked, Potter, I am your superior. We work on my timetable, not yours. I will not have you blundering around and screwing this up. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I do. I don't think we should sit back and wait until he's cottoned on to us and fled either though."

"Which he probably will have done because of your idiocy."

"We're not going to get any more information if we watch for another fortnight. Are you scared to take him or something?" That question came out as if Harry was taunting Tougas. He had not intended for it to be so.

"Just covering all my bases, Potter, something you have probably never done."

Again Harry didn't comment. He felt he'd already stepped way over the line, even though he knew he had a point.

"Not that it matters now. We're going to have to move in as soon as possible. We've got to take him now before he has a chance to take off. I want you back here at six."

"Fine."

The weather the following morning was no better than it had been the previous day. Sure that Tougas was going to keep him in an observational position for untold hours, Harry decided he was going to bring his invisibility cloak. If nothing else it would be an additional layer to shield him from the cold. As he was making ready to leave, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Ginny, a small pop announced the appearance of someone's head in the fire.

"POTTER," barked Tougas.

"Sssshhh," Harry hissed, hurrying over to the fire. This guy really had no consideration at all. "My girlfriend's asleep in the other room."

"Touching," Tougas sneered, speaking a little quieter than before. "Bring your broomstick with you."

"We're not flying to Manchester?" Harry asked, thinking of how he'd be a solid mass of ice in this weather. Perhaps that was what Tougas was hoping for, so he could drag this case out for several more weeks.

"No. But we're going to have to Apparate farther away this time. I can almost guarantee that Yaxley'll have reinforced his wards. If we're lucky he'll think those canaries set everything off, but he's got to be running scared."

"Yeah, OK." They'd probably be Apparating into another county if Tougas thought they'd need brooms. Flying in this weather was going to be a nightmare, Harry knew, but he couldn't help but feel a little upbeat at the idea of being back on his broom. It had been months since he'd taken his Firebolt out.

"Ten minutes then." With this final order Tougas's head disappeared.

Clutching his Firebolt under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry exited from the flat to find a safe Apparition point. At five-thirty in the morning this wasn't a hard task at all. Moments later Harry had left the chill January behind and was walking through the nearly empty Auror headquarters to find Tougas. He wanted to set off right away but knew better than to think that Tougas would stand for this. He was as bad as Oliver Wood had been for long drawn out lectures.

As there were so few employees in at this ungodly hour it didn't take him long to find his supervisor at all. Tougas was deep in discussion with a tiny witch with mousy brown hair. Harry had seen them talking quite often, but he didn't know who she was. He'd been spending so much time on this redundant case that he'd had little time for anything else. He stood back, waiting for them to wrap up their conversation. There was something oddly familiar about her, aside from the occasions he'd seen her over the last weeks. As he was trying to place where he had seen this witch before she spotted him watching her. Blushing, she nudged Tougas who turned, frowning. After what appeared to be a quick goodbye, he came over to Harry.

"Well, Potter, your day has come at last," he said snidely. "Another chance to get yourself in the papers. It's been a whole week, hasn't it?"

Harry ignored this. Here again was another tactic he was quite used to from when he was younger. Tougas had adopted it as one of his favorites. It did get to Harry some days, especially when he was tired, but lately he hadn't been bothered by the remarks. Perhaps he had got used to it after putting up with the reaction for so many years. Tougas pulled him into a room they used for interrogations.

"You do remember everything you've been going over?"

Harry nodded.

"You'd better. One more demonstration like yesterday –"

"I got it," Harry said quickly.

"Good. Keep it in mind though that you can't go charging in like an untrained oaf. We're going to Apparate to Liverpool and fly from there. If we're lucky the dark and mist will hide us. Let's go."

Thirty minutes later, after traveling through some truly frightening winds, Harry and Tougas landed. It was only as he threw the invisibility cloak over himself that Harry realized they were standing in almost exactly the same spot as the day they'd first arrived. He couldn't even make out the large building Yaxley was (hopefully) still hiding in.

Clutching their brooms, they set off, the howling wind masking the sound of their footsteps and the swishing of their cloaks. Harry had to keep a firm grip on the invisibility cloak to keep it from flying off in the gale. They were moving slowly, looking for the perimeter of Yaxley's enchantments. Harry agreed with Tougas (much as he didn't want to admit it) that after their near escape the evening before it was highly likely that he would have fortified his protections, assuming he hadn't just up and left.

To their surprise, the protective border around that large brick building was exactly the same as it had been the previous evening. Harry was sure this meant Tougas's attempted diversion didn't work at all. He was almost completely convinced that Yaxley realized they had caught up with him and had taken off. So strong was his conviction that he had to give himself a shake to stop himself from getting up and leaving.

It was completely light out by the time they'd satisfied themselves that none of the enchantments had changed.

"You know, Potter it would be a hell of a lot smarter if you'd take off that stupid cloak and just Disillusion yourself," Tougas hissed.

"Not going to do a whole hell of a lot of good once we step inside those barriers though, is it?" Harry asked, looking to his left where he could tell Tougas was standing because of the disruption of the pouring rain. He was reluctant to remove an extra layer of protection from the wind and the rain, but that certainly wasn't all. Hadn't it been Tougas who had said they needed to know every possible thing about these protections before they made their move? Now he was forgetting that the minute they stepped inside the boundaries any charms to conceal or disguise would be lifted. They were going to have to act fast.

"Fine," Tougas barked, clearly annoyed that Harry got one over on him. "Remember though, Potter . . . No unnecessary risks. The last thing we need is Muggle involvement."

"Understood." Harry was perched on the very edge of the enchantments.

"On my count then. One . . . Two . . . Three . . . "

They ran into the midst of the batch of protective spells. Nothing happened except Tougas's Disillusionment charm lifting. Harry did his best to keep the invisibility cloak from flapping and exposing him.

"Alohomora," Harry said, pointing his wand at the door. He could just make out the sound of the lock clicking. Keeping his wand at the ready he started to ease the door open, unsure of how Yaxley was going to react. He expected to see a jet of light at any time; the Death Eater had certainly been forewarned of their appearance by their breach of his wards. As there was only one door if he wanted to leave this would be the most likely way he would come. They had him trapped. Nothing happened.

"There's no one in there, Potter." Tougas had caught up with Harry. He was lowering his wand. "Looks like he's left. Probably after last night."

Harry spun to say I told you so, but as he turned, he saw a shadow pass overhead. Both he and Tougas looked up. Someone was speeding away on a broom. He was already over the water, but Harry was ready to bet his firebolt that it was Yaxley. There weren't that many witches and wizards in Manchester for this to be a coincidence.

"Potter, where are you going?" Tougas shouted. Harry barely heard him. He had hopped onto his broom and took off like a bullet after Yaxley. After four years of unlawful freedom, and nearly two months of Harry's time, there was no bloody way he was going to let this bastard get away.

Though he had nearly half a mile's head start Harry was rapidly gaining on Yaxley thanks to his superior broom. He was focusing all his energy on keeping his broom straight in the gale. Thirty seconds after Harry started tailing him that Yaxley looked back to see if he was being followed. Seeing Harry he pointed his wand over his shoulder and aimed a curse. Harry easily avoided the jet of red light by diving low. If he could keep his broom on course he'd be laying hands on the scum in mere moments.

Yaxley seemed to sense this. He shot another jet of red light before making a sharp ninety-degree turn. Harry easily avoided the spell again, but unfortunately was caught in a particularly strong gust of wind and was blown in the exact opposite direction.

"Damn it," he yelled, regaining control of his broom and flattening himself against it so he could gain optimal speed. He needed to make up the distance he'd lost if he had any chance of catching Yaxley. Too much longer and the idiot might remember that he could Disapparate. Hopefully he didn't realize that for a little bit longer . . .

Yaxley seemed to also be struggling with the speed of the wind. He hadn't shot any spells back since making that sharp turn. Much like Harry, it seemed that all of his effort was going into keeping his broom from spinning out of control.

After another vicious wind gust, Harry pulled his broom up sharply to avoid the jet of green light issuing from his pursuit's wand. It took a second for him to realize that he'd done exactly as Yaxley wanted because the Death eater had dived. Hastening to follow, Harry felt a clenching in his chest.

Yaxley had dived right down to street level, and was speeding through a crowd of Muggles who were darting out of the way.

The buildings acted like a windbreak so Harry was able to use less of his efforts on being blown out to sea. This was good news for him, but potentially bad news for the Muggles. Any one of these people could become victim of a desperate man trying to escape his fate.

"Come on," Harry bellowed at his broom, urging it faster. He needed to catch this guy before anything happened.

"Expelliarmus," he yelled, hoping at the very least to disarm Yaxley. His spell just missed. He was able to easily avoid all the spells that Harry sent at him, and Harry was still too far away to grab him, but the gap was closing all the time. Just a few more minutes . . .

As they turned another corner Yaxley aimed another killing curse at Harry. He dodged it, but hoped it didn't hit any of the stunned Muggles behind him. He kept his concentration on his pursuit though. The street they were speeding down was a dead end. If Yaxley didn't notice the building straight ahead he'd be sure to crash into it.

Unfortunately he did notice, but too late to fly above it. Instead, he dived down and landed.

"Good," thought Harry. He'd be much easier to catch on foot (again assuming he didn't Disapparate). As he too landed, a dozen feet away from Yaxley, his chest clenched even tighter. Yaxley snatched one of the bystanders from the crowd, clearly meant to be a hostage.

"The game's up," Harry said, trying not to betray his fear for the safety of the young boy who now had Yaxley's wand pointed at his throat. Now would be the time to disarm or stun, but one failed attempt and that boy would surely be dead. Harry held off until the exact right moment.

Yaxley was smiling, a cold and calculating expression on him.

"Oh I don't know, Potter. I seem to be the one with the pwer here. What d'you think about showing all these people a demonstration of real magic?"

Harry tried not to let the murmurings of the bystanders distract him. He was waiting for the exact right moment.

"I don't think Mad-Eye is going to be too happy you've let me get this close to Muggles, Potter. Perhaps the Minister will rethink allowing you to become an Auror once he finds out how many people you've got killed. Then again you did manage to get here faster than Tougas did." Yaxley's smile increased as he looked at something over Harry's shoulder.

"Expelliarmus . . . Stupefy," Harry shouted, taking full advantage of Yaxley's momentary distraction. Both jets of red light hit their mark. His wand flew high into the air, and a second later he fell over backwards.

Tougas strode past Harry, to the place were Yaxley was lying stupefied. He picked up the wand, and pocketed it, conjured cords out of thin air, which wound themselves tightly around Yaxley, and then cast a spell Harry had seen before. Yaxley bobbed along in mid-air, bound tightly, but still unconscious.

"What did I say, Potter?" Tougas asked, stopping about a foot away, and speaking quietly so as not to be overheard. His eyes were bulging with fury.

It took a minute for Harry to recall what Tougas had said. "Don't take risks. We don't need Muggle involvement," he said finally. "But –"

"And who are all these people?"

"Muggles. But –"

"Tell me something, Potter. Is there an inherent flaw in your genetic code that prevents you from following orders?"

"NO," Harry said loudly. "But we got him, didn't we. And there weren't any injuries, we – were there?" He had hesitated here, remembering his worry that there might have been someone hit by the last killing curse Yaxley had cast.

"Luckily, no. But this little stunt of yours could have cost more than just memory charms. One day that luck of yours is going to run out, and you'll probably get yourself and a million other people killed on the process. Take him and get back to headquarters."

It would be a relief to get out of the rain. Harry checked to make sure he still had his invisibility cloak, grabbed his firebolt in one hand, Yaxley's shoulder in the other, and concentrated on the Apparition area in his own department at the Ministry.

"Potter?"

He was halfway to one of the interrogation rooms with his prisoner in tow when Moody called him.

"Yeah?"

"What's this?" Moody came closer. It was a minute before he seemed to comprehend what he was seeing. "Nice work. This is the real scum then?"

"Pretty sure."

"Where's Tougas?"

"He had to stay behind. There was an . . . incident."

"What sort of incident?" Moody's real eye narrowed.

"He took off on a broom. We followed . . . but he flew right through a crowd of Muggles."

Moody did not look pleased. "So I take it he's overseeing the modification of their memories?"

"Safe assumption," Harry mumbled. It was hard to tell what Moody's reaction would be to this situation.

"I look forward to the explanation of this in your report. Get this vermin prepared for transport to Azkaban and then get busy on that report."

"Yes, sir."

Once he had placed the still unconscious Yaxley into a holding cell and made sure it was secure, Harry returned to his cubicle and started to fill out the requested report. He was about halfway through a detailed retelling of the events that led to Yaxley's recapture when he was suddenly seized by the back of his robes and yanked out of his chair. Ink spilled onto his report as he dropped his quill and stumbled to find his feet while reaching for his wand.

"Contrary to what you think, Potter, lives really are at stake when you pull idiotic stunts like that," Tougas said. His voice was shaking slightly, his expression murderous.

"No one got hurt," Harry said, which seemed to be quite the wrong thing to say.

"Only because I followed behind you to clean up your mess. On that last turn I saved a Muggle woman from getting hit by that Killing Curse, but barely."

"Thank God for that," Harry stated truthfully. "I didn't have control over where he went. I was following him, remember."

"Who told you to pursue?"

"I – well, no one, but –"

"Exactly. We have protocols for these types of situations. You're supposed to know them."

"You think I was just going to stand there and let him leave?"

"You call for reinforcements. Secure the area so that what happened today –"

"No one got hurt," Harry repeated. "There wasn't time for – I'm sorry but I saw the chance to catch him and I took it. Waiting for reinforcement would have given Yaxley the chance to Disapparate and then we'd have spent another four years tracking him down."

"So you prefer to risk innocent lives?"

"No. If it can be avoided – but here –"

"You saw a chance to prove what a hot shot you are, to hell with precautions, or the statute of secrecy?"

"I thought the objective of the mission was to get Yaxley? There were no injuries, and memories can be modified. Isn't that what we have Obliviators for?"

"If we'd followed protocol they wouldn't have been needed. The fact there were no injuries was luck. We don't work on luck, Potter. In case you haven't already realized it, this job is not about having a chance to show off!"

"We have another Death Eater in custody because I reacted rather than sitting back and allowing him to escape again, like you've been doing for four years." Harry said it out of temper, and immediately wanted to take it back. He knew he'd just stepped way over the line.

"At least I've never got someone killed. How many have you got killed? Your godfather, and how many Muggles was it again?"

"Shut the hell up!" Harry felt fury rise up in him. How dare Tougas bring up those deaths? They were accidents. Did he really think that those didn't still haunt Harry? He raised his wand and pointed it in Tougas's face.

"You're dangerous, Potter. Or perhaps inept is a more accurate word."

"Perhaps I've learned more from you than I thought then," Harry spat.

Tougas raised his wand to perform some sort of spell, but at that minute both his and Harry's wands flew out of their hands.

"What are you two doing?" Moody demanded loudly, moving over to them as quickly as he could. It was only now that Harry realized the argument between himself and Tougas had attracted the attention of everyone else. They were all standing up in their cubicles and watching the two men face each other, looking ready to attack.

"Potter and I were just having a _discussion _about the case, sir," Tougas said, turning at once to face Moody.

"Looked more like you were about to kill each other," Moody said. "This department does not tolerate such behaviour. Tougas come with me. Potter, go home."

"But my report –" Harry started.

"Take it home. I don't want you anywhere near this building for the rest of the day." Moody gave Harry back his wand. "And I want to see you first thing tomorrow morning, with that report. The rest of you get back to work."

The exhilaration Harry had felt at finally apprehending Yaxley was very short-lived indeed. From Moody's reaction, it sounded like he was in trouble. Tougas was surely going to use this meeting with Moody to vilify Harry. He rolled up the parchment he was writing his report on, grabbed his broom again, and headed for the Apparition point. It was only at the very last minute that he decided to put on his cloak. There was bound to be at least one Muggle who would be startled by his sudden appearance. Feeling that risking the exposure of the wizarding world again today could not do him any good, Harry made absolutely sure he was alone before removing the cloak when he appeared in the alley next to his flat, and also that the cloak completely covered his broom before he entered the building.

It was only as he took the three flights of stairs that led to his flat that Harry realized how exhausted he was. Having been on such high levels of alert for hours, he felt like doing nothing better than dropping into bed and sleeping. With any luck Ginny would be back from practice.

Harry had to wait for one of his neighbors to pass before he could unlock the door. As he waited he thought he heard the television on. Good, that meant Ginny was back.

"Ginny?" he called closing the door behind him.

"You're early," she replied, coming around from the kitchen. "I thought you'd be hours."

"Long story. I – what?"

Ginny was looking slightly apprehensive. She kept glancing from Harry to the sofa. Wondering what the draw was he shifted his gaze there too. What he saw made him sure his luck had finally peaked.

Lounging on his sofa was none other than his only living relative, Dudley Dursley.


	4. A New Roommate

Chapter Four – A New Roommate

The reappearance of his cousin would have been unwelcome even if Harry wasn't already in a temper. Ever since the death of his parents, Dudley had kept his distance, which was perfectly fine. The few times the two cousins had met usually meant Dudley had some great complaint, or wanted to make one demand or another (like extra tutelage in magic, for example). After the day he'd just had, Harry was ready to chuck Dudley out of his flat. He had neither the patience nor inclination to listen to Dudley's whining.

Ginny, seeming to sense Harry's intentions covered his mouth with her hand before he could say anything. Dudley was too busy watching television to notice that anyone else had come in.

"You've obviously had a bad day, Harry. But before you fly off the handle maybe you should hear what he has to say. You might be pleasantly surprised."

"Why? What has he been telling you?" Harry could not help the accusatory tone in his voice, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back. If she knew something she'd tell him straightaway. The hope that Ginny had not caught his words or tone was dashed when he looked at her and saw the flash of anger.

"I have no idea. I got home ten minutes before you did and found him knocking on the door. All he said was he wanted to talk to you."

Harry groaned. He had no memory of ever having those words precede anything he liked. The last time Dudley had shown up "to talk" he had spent hours elaborating on a long list of complaints about his university. Only when Harry threatened to hex him did he change topic and start making demands for extra lessons in magic.

The few disastrous attempts Harry had made at teaching his cousin magic were enough to convince him that he could not teach Dudley anything without high risk of causing Dudley bodily harm. He was very appreciative of the fact that others had taken on this odious task. While they had all been staying at Grimmauld Place, people like Minerva McGonagall, Moody, and Kingsley had taken it upon themselves to continue Dudley's training. Whether they were able to get any better results from Dudley, Harry didn't know, but given the fact that most lessons ended with both teacher and student in tempers, he thought it unlikely. Though the lessons continued to this day, Harry doubted in four years that Dudley had progressed beyond learning to control his magic at the most basic level, which, as McGonagall pointed out, was the main reason he needed training in the first place.

"I think it best that you listen to what he has to say without flying off the handle," Ginny said again. "D'you think you can do that?"

Harry looked from her back to Dudley who had continued to watch his programme. He still didn't want to hear what Dudley had to say, but she had a point. . The quicker he heard Dudley out, the quicker he could get him to leave. Bearing this in mind, he nodded.

"Good." Ginny busied herself with the kettle, leaving Harry to slump down in a chair and think about all of the possible complaints or demands that Dudley was likely to claim this time

"Are you making tea?" he asked stupidly when the kettle's whistle diverted his attention from the television.

"Yes. Would you like some, Dudley?" Ginny inquired.

Dudley nodded fervently, but stopped quickly when he saw Harry sitting there. A tense moment of silence followed this exchange. Ginny tolerated this for a minute before she gave Harry a stern look and glanced quickly at Dudley. Her meaning could not have been plainer.

Sighing, Harry said, "Dudley, come in here please."

He did as Harry asked, but Dudley seemed most reluctant to divulge the reason he had come. This struck Harry as ominous. On similar visits he had always been more than willing to enumerate his problems or complaints. Why had he now decided to clam up? This could mean nothing good.

"Are you going to sit there like a moron, or are you actually going to tell us why you're here?" Harry demanded when he could not take the silence any longer.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation but said nothing.

"What makes you think I'm here for something?" Dudley questioned, attempting to look insulted, but his nerves diminished the effect somewhat. Harry raised an eyebrow, still just as skeptical as before. Dudley shrugged, "OK, OK. I did come here because I need – I need your help." He gulped, looking like he was swallowing a mouthful of bile.

He'd been expecting it, but the fact he was right did not give Harry a sense of triumph. He looked at Ginny, who was frowning now. "What sort of mess have you got yourself into now?"

It looked for a minute as if Dudley was trying to fix an annoyed expression on his face, but instead his shoulders drooped and he stared into his tea. "It's not really a mess."

"Wait a minute," Ginny spoke up, causing Dudley's head to spring up again. Harry glowered at Dudley before turning his attention to Ginny. This was another reason that Harry so detested having his cousin around: the fact he slobbered all over Ginny. It was a disgusting behaviour that had not got any better over time despite his being threatened, punched and hexed on several different occasions. Ginny had even got him a couple of times with her famous Bat Bogey hex. It made her repeated insistence that he be nice to Dudley all the more perplexing.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school, Dudley?" she asked.

"Yes and no," Dudley replied evasively, squirming, increasing Harry's suspicion.

Ginny was right. They were mere weeks into what should be Dudley's last term at university. Not being a fully-fledged wizard he could not Apparate, and as far as Harry knew he'd never traveled by Floo powder before. This meant he must have taken a train to get here, missing at least a day from school. Dudley was the least studious person Harry knew (his appalling academic performance had given Hermione nightmares) but even he wouldn't use a visit here as an excuse to skive off classes.

"It's either one or the other, Dudley," Ginny stated

"Fine. It's no, then."

"They chucked you out?" The knowledge that he was surprised at this news shocked Harry. It had been a miracle that any university had accepted Dudley in the first place. The fact he had managed to make it through two and a half years without getting kicked out was astounding.

"They asked me to leave." Dudley sounded so miserable that Harry quickly stifled his desire to laugh.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ginny responded sympathetically.

"It's hardly surprising given his abysmal grades. You can't tell me you didn't see this coming, Dudley," Harry stated.

"Suppose I did," he admitted, causing both Harry and Ginny to exchange a look. This was the baldest statement Dudley had made in a long time. "I guess mum and dad would have been disappointed in me."

No, they would have made an excuse for his poor performance as usual, Harry thought. He decided not to say this, instead shrugging noncommittally. He didn't feel much like discussing his aunt and uncle. A horribly disturbing thought that connected Dudley's expulsion and his visit was starting to develop in his mind. After a respectful amount of silence Harry asked, "so what does getting chucked out of school have to do with your . . . er . . . visit?"

"Um . . . " For the second time in the short time they'd been talking, Dudley looked like he had to work hard to prevent himself being sick. If Harry was right about the reason for this visit he was not going to help Dudley to say it. "Well . . . I was hoping that since I don't have anywhere else to stay now that you'd . . . let me stay here." The last four words tumbled out of his mouth so fast they were almost unintelligible.

"Oh," Ginny breathed from Harry's left. She apparently hadn't seen this coming. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw her turn to watch his reaction. This is exactly what he thought Dudley was leading to, but upon learning he'd been right, he had the urge to laugh. The thought of living with Dudley again really was funny. They'd spent sixteen years praying for the day when they could part each other's company, and now they had achieved it Dudley wanted to return to living together again.

"Well . . . what do you say, Harry?" Dudley tried to sound like he was unsure of the answer he would get, but his tone betrayed him. To Dudley it seemed his asking was mere formality.

"Not a chance in hell," Harry said flatly. It had been one thing to stay with the Dursleys at their house on Privet Drive, but it had been far worse to stay with them at Grimmauld Place for several months and Sirius's old house was a lot bigger than this flat. Living in such close quarters might increase Dudley's odds of sustaining bodily harm.

Harry expected another reprimand from Ginny, but she remained silence. Perhaps she, too, realized that it was not a good idea for two people who loathed the very idea of each other to be flatmates.

"But I've got nowhere else to go," Dudley whined.

"There is Privet Drive," Ginny suggested.

"I'm not going back there," he responded so rapidly and forcefully that both Harry and Ginny were shocked into total silence. "I can't really go back anyway. The damage done by those Death Eaters can't be repaired you know. Not that I would want to go back there even if it could."

"You could rebuild, or buy new. You've certainly got enough money," Harry stated.

Being Vernon and Petunia's only child, Dudley had been their sole beneficiary. It turned out they had a lot of insurance, plus the house, and Uncle Vernon's company Grunnings. Dudley would have been set for the rest of his life even without the impressive amount left to him from Aunt Marge's estate (she, of course, having died before Uncle Vernon and leaving everything to him). Dudley was the last person in Harry's life who would need to beg for a place to stay.

"I haven't. Mum and Dad set up the money in trust. I only have a certain amount I can draw on. It's not enough to afford to live anywhere decent."

Knowing the Dursleys as he did, Harry seriously doubted they would have set up a trust so Dudley's stipend was not sufficient for him to live a posh life. Then again anything less than all of the money was probably not enough for him. Perhaps Uncle Vernon had not been as stupid as he so often demonstrated. He was clearly concerned his son would not act responsibly with money and had taken precautions. Harry felt an involuntary wave of admiration for his deceased uncle.

"Can't you just ask for more? There have to be circumstances under which you can withdraw more money from the trust," Ginny suggested.

"That might still take months though. What would I do until then?"

"What about Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked, trying to think of anyplace that was not his flat.

"You want me to stay at that freakshow house?" Dudley asked hysterically. "Where portraits shout at you if you look at them funny, that's beyond filthy, and where you have that creepy _creature_ lurking around every corner? No, thank you!"

"Don't let Hermione hear you call Kreacher a _creature_," Harry said, feeling amused for the first time that day. It was exactly like Dudley to come in begging for some help, and then to shun the help offered.

"The place really has gone straight down the drain since the Order stopped using it," Ginny conceded. Dudley smiled smugly at Harry, but a minute later that was wiped off as Ginny added, "but beggars can't be choosers. People who are asking for help shouldn't be so quick to turn up their noses."

This effectively shut Dudley up.

Feeling like Ginny had gained a small victory over Dudley Harry leaned back in his chair and sipped his cold tea. He was savoring the shocked look on his cousin's face. If anyone else was in this situation he might feel bad, but Dudley had brought the whole thing on himself.

"I think Grimmauld Place is the best idea," Ginny said after contemplating the suggestion. "Since you already meet your trainers there it would be highly convenient. And I think it would be good for Kreacher to have someone staying there full-time. He really is too old to be alone so much."

"You sound like Hermione," Harry replied casually. Dudley didn't look happy, but that was just too bad. It was like Ginny said, beggars could not be choosers. It would give Dudley a place to stay and, even better, he would still be out of the way. Ginny was really a genius sometimes.

"She's right about Kreacher, Harry." The jubilant feeling Harry had begun to feel at the thought he would not have to live with Dudley evaporated at the annoyed look Ginny was giving him. Harry wondered if she was intentionally trying to deflate his happy feeling for she was not finished speaking. "The house is in no condition for habitation though. It's going to require at minimum a few days before you can move in, Dudley."

"Does that mean I can stay here during that time?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Harry said. Even a few days in Dudley's company would be tempting fate.

"Where am I supposed to go until then?"

"Don't you have any friends you can stay with? What about Piers and that lot?"

"I haven't talked to him for years, not since that summer your lot kidnapped us into that horrible house. Shacklebolt and that Arthur man appeared right out of thin air in front of us at Smeltings. That's why I chose not to go back there, you know. Who could face them after that?"

"Oh is that why? You mean it didn't have anything to do with the fact that you were supposed to be staying at headquarters so you wouldn't get picked up by Death Eaters?" Harry asked sarcastically. The modicum of patience he'd had for this conversation was ebbing away as fast as his jubilation had.

"You know, Potter," Dudley said angrily, "this hasn't all been a laugh for me. My parents were murdered remember. You've got no idea what it's like to live with that."

Harry had a ready retort, but Dudley's last statement pushed everything else from his mind. He was painfully aware of how self-centered Dudley was, but this was extreme even for him. How quickly he forgot the reason that Harry had lived at Privet Drive for all of those years.

"What?" Dudley asked after thirty seconds of absolute silence. He looked from Harry to Ginny and back again. "Oh, sorry," he said after taking another thirty seconds to realize his blunder. Dudley didn't even have the sense to break from his campaign though. He changed tactics without flinching. "Well Harry, we've both lost our parents to _him_. You know what it's like . . . . I thought you'd understand. We're in the same boat."

"No, we're not. My parents actually stayed in their hideout. The only reason they died was because they were betrayed. I told your parents what would happen if they moved out of Grimmauld Place. Lupin told them too, so did Kinglsey and Moody. They chose not to listen and – surprise, surprise – they're dead." His anger over Dudley's behaviour and assumption made Harry say these words more harshly than he might otherwise have done.

Dudley jumped to his feet, fists clenched. Harry followed suit, withdrawing his wand.

"That's enough." Ginny got to her feet too, and she also had her wand out. "Dudley, sit down. You, come with me." She grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him from the room.

"Why'd you pull me out of there?" Harry demanded, putting his wand back in his pocket as Ginny closed the bedroom door.

"Because you were being a complete prat. I can't believe you, of all people, could be so callous about his parent's deaths. He's clearly still upset about it and you just trounced all over his feelings."

"Dudley hasn't got feelings for anyone but himself," Harry said automatically, but without conviction. Now he was away from Dudley he was starting to feel an all-too-familiar queasiness. It was because of an escape and a defeated Imperius Curse on Ron's part that Voldemort had gone after the Dursleys in the first place. If he, Ron and Hermione hadn't gone to Little Hangleton that day, they would still be alive.

"Oh Harry, grow up," Ginny sighed. She sat down on the edge of the bed looking very tired. "Haven't you taken any time to think about why Dudley's done the things he's done? The money, the university, the magic?"

"Dudley's not that deep a person, Ginny. He only does what pleases him. I'm surprised you haven't realized that yet."

"I don't think so. I think, despite how he's acting tonight, he's really upset over the death of his parents. Do you really think he would have continued trying to learn magic, or worked so hard to get into university if this weren't something his parents wanted? And as for the money thing, I'm sure his parents would have left him with enough money to support himself. But didn't they buy him a lot of things? Don't you think its likely he's spending a lot of that money to buy things hoping that will help remember his parents."

"That won't work. What a stupid idea."

"Of course it is. But it's all he knew. And think of this too," Ginny continued. "How hard has it been for you to deal with the loss of your parents even though you didn't really know them? How much worse do you think it would be if you had not only known them, but relied on them for nearly everything?"

Harry's immediate thought was that he wouldn't have relied on his parents like Dudley did. First off, his mum and dad, thankfully, weren't like the Durlseys and probably wouldn't have raised him to be as spoiled as Dudley. But . . . loathe though Harry was to admit it, what Ginny said made sense. Even more disturbing was the fact that he now felt a little sorry for Dudley and reluctantly guilty about what he'd said.

"I didn't think you had it in you to be so inconsiderate, Harry," Ginny said, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Was I the one who barged in and started making demands?" Harry asked furiously. He couldn't stop himself from pacing around the room. This was too much. To have overreacted was one thing, but inconsiderate? He, Harry, may have been a little rash in his comments, but it wasn't like he had shown up at someone's house unannounced and started acting like he owned the place.

"So his methods were terrible. I still would have thought you could stop being pig-headed long enough to appreciate that he came to you."

"It wasn't out of loyalty or because we're _family_." Harry traced quotations around the last word. "You heard him! He only came here because he's got nowhere else to go. Why are you pushing this so much?"

For the second time that night Harry couldn't keep the accusatory note out of his voice. For years Ginny had stated she thought that Harry and Dudley should try to be nicer to each other. She'd never been this direct about it before. It was quite disconcerting.

"I'm just trying to get you to stop acting like a git," Ginny sighed. "I'll never understand you, Harry. You've spent years envying my family and saying how much you'd love you have your own family, yet you push your only family member away at every opportunity."

"You would too if you had a cousin like Dudley. Listen Gin, I know this is hard for you to understand because you come from the perfect family, but not every family can be as close as yours."

"My family is far from perfect. Remember Percy? You just don't want to put in the effort to make things work. I'm surprised that you don't want to take even a little time to see if what he's been through has changed Dudley. What you've been through has certainly changed you." Ginny paused for a moment before continuing, "Was al that talk about wishing you had a family just that – talk?"

"I don't consider Dudley Durlsey family. He's a relation, yes, but not family. You, Ron and Hermione are my family."

"Well, here's your chance to change that. I know you'll be really upset if you don't take the chance to develop a relationship with him. Let him stay, at least for a few days. Maybe you'll be surprised at how much he's changed."

"Not likely," Harry said quietly. It was the very last thing he wanted to do. He had lived with Dudley a lot longer than Ginny had. The likelihood that his cousin had become a tolerable human being was less than nil. The stern look on Ginny's face wasn't going away though. If he gave in at least she wouldn't be able to go on about what he hadn't done. Harry sighed heavily. "Fine, he can stay. But –" he was keen to stress this point –" the first sign he's pulling anything Dudleyish he's out."

"It's your house," Ginny said, looking pleased at Harry's change of heart. "I don't think you'll regret this."

Following Ginny back to the kitchen Harry added this latest thing to his growing list of questions. He still had not talked to her about her odd behaviour leading up to Christmas. As things had been good these last weeks since Ron and Hermione had left and there was a chance it would just set her off again he wasn't about to bring it up. He might be a little stubborn sometimes, but he wasn't stupid. Only a fool would chance turning calm into a storm. All the same, practically demanding that Dudley be allowed to stay was worth of quite a lot of concern.

"I guess it's safe to assume you forgot it was your turn to make dinner?" Ginny asked as they reentered the kitchen. Rather than sounding annoyed she now sounded amused.

Given everything that had occurred that day the thought of dinner had been driven completely from Harry's mind. The excitement of capturing Yaxley and then the subsequent altercation with Tougas had taken centre stage.

"Yeah, I – sorry," he said, recalling why he had been in such a bad mood even before seeing Dudley. Ginny watched him intently for a second.

"I'll forgive it this time," she replied with a small smile. "We've got a ton of food anyway. Mum keeps sending stuff over." She gestured toward the fridge. "It's like she thinks we can't cook for ourselves or something."

With a few waves of her wand, Ginny had Mrs. Weasley's casserole, steaming hot, in the middle of the table. Dudley was staring at the dish as though he'd never seen food before. Harry assumed that though he'd been learning magic for several years, his day-to-day exposure to it was still quite limited.

"Since you got out of making dinner, you'll at least get the plates?" Ginny asked Harry.

"OK." He raised his own wand and used it to have three plates, glasses and sets of cutlery fly out of the cupboards and drawer and land in their appropriate locations on the table.

"So cool," Dudley said under his breath.

"You could do it too if you just practiced more," Harry stated, piling some of the casserole on his plate. It was not until he smelled the wonderful aroma of Mrs. Weasley's cooking that he realized how hungry he was. Mrs. Weasley was still the best cook he knew. It was just too bad her fabulous talent hadn't been passed on to Ron or Ginny. Ron tended to burn anything he touched, so it was safer – and kinder on the taste buds – for him to remain a consumer rather than a producer of food. Ginny wasn't a bad cook, she just didn't have her mother's culinary brilliance. He'd never told her that though. Ginny was a dangerous witch to anger; Harry would rather not have any of his body parts altered, thank you.

"So, Harry, feel like talking about your bad day?" Ginny asked after several minutes in which only the sound of cutlery scraping against plates could be heard.

At first he debated about going into details of his day, especially with Dudley there, but being reminded of it for the second time made him feel a little ill. He was still unsure of what was going to happen about his outburst at Tougas.

"What an ass –" Dudley started to say after Harry had finished his story, but Ginny cut across him.

"You probably shouldn't have lost your temper with him, but Moody's reasonable. I bet you nothing will happen. I mean you did get Yaxley, thank God. Maybe now the Abbots can have some peace."

Harry wished he could share her certainty. He spent the rest of the meal contemplating his fate the next day. Tomorrow night he might be unemployed. It was a gut-wrenching thought. To have put in so much work for three years just to have it all end over such a stupid man was intolerable.

"So . . . er . . . " Dudley hesitated as they all stood up from dinner. "Can I say then?" He was looking nervously at Harry. He had purposely avoided giving Dudley an answer while they ate dinner. The longer he could avoid acknowledging his already made decision, the better.

"Yeah, you can stay," he said slowly.

Dudley looked flabbergasted at Harry's response. Like with Ginny, Harry was determined to make Dudley understand that he was not going to put up with any crap.

"Yeah, I got it." Dudley was smiling like a Cheshire cat as he responded to Harry's list of conditions. "But you won't regret it, Harry."

This was the second time he'd been told this in the last hour. Harry did not share Dudley and Ginny's optimism. Knowing Dudley as he did, Harry was quite sure he'd come to regret this decision very much.


	5. Joining The Hunt

Chapter Five – Joining the Hunt

Over the years the inhabitants of that small flat in London had fallen into certain patterns. One of those just happened to be the rule that those who cook are exempt from doing the dishes. Ordinarily Harry would not have minded in the least. Tonight though, he had that report for Moody and after the day he'd just had, Harry wanted to make sure he had it finished. Making a good impression had become key. The problem was how to address this with Ginny. She'd been in a good mood ever since he'd agreed to let Dudley stay, but given her frequent mood swings lately he could never be sure of her reaction. Ginny took the decision upon herself though.

"Don't you have a report to finish?" she asked, getting up and levitating the dishes to the sink.

"Yeah," Harry replied, wondering how it was she was always able to read his mind.

"Shouldn't you get busy on it? I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be up all night again."

"Are you sure? I can do this -"

"I am perfectly capable of doing the dishes, Harry," she responded, a warning in her voice.

It was better not to argue. Harry collected his things and began to work.

For the most part Harry loved his flat, but there were certain things that he wished were different. One of them was the constant cold in the winter that necessitated use of the fire. While it seemed cozy, it was a little inconvenient to work so near it. His desk was frequently coated in ash, and it was all-too-common to have one bit of parchment or another end up in the fire, particularly when the owls were flying around. This had desisted somewhat when Ron moved out and took Pigwidgeon with him.

As he unfurled the scroll he was writing his report on, Harry noticed Dudley slink into the kitchen where Ginny was setting to dishes to wash. She was more than a match for Dudley (there wasn't a witch or wizard alive who wasn't), but that did not mean that Harry was going to stand idly by and watch his cousin slobber all over her. He might be over here working, but he had his wand with him. If Dudley tried anything . . .

It took much longer for Harry to complete his report than it ought to have done. More than once he had to rewrite the same paragraph because he had been inattentive, instead keeping his ear tuned to Ginny and Dudley's conversation. Thankfully there was little of it, and Dudley was behaving himself.

"And he'd better continue to do so," Harry thought, gritting his teeth as Dudley let out a loud laugh that made him drop a large ink blot onto his report.

It was nearly midnight when Harry finally wrote his last line. His hand was aching given he'd filled a whole parchment (Hermione would be proud) and had to rewrite more than was usual because of the errors he'd made.

Both Ginny and Dudley were still awake. As Harry moved from his desk, they both came to stand by him.

"I was just thinking . . . " Ginny started, making both Harry and Dudley look at her. "The first match is coming up in a few weeks. Maybe you should bring Dudley with you, Harry."

"Quidditch?" Dudley asked sounding interested.

"Yes. I can't imagine that you've had a chance to see much of it. I think you'd enjoy it."

"Yeah . . . I'd love to go," Dudley replied at once.

"What do you think?" Ginny had turned to look at Harry.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, trying to smile, but he was sure it looked more like a grimace.

"Good. Well, as it's getting on and we've both got to work tomorrow, I think we should be getting to bed."

"I guess I'm staying in there, am I?" Dudley asked, gesturing toward the room that had once been Ron's.

"No," Harry said automatically. Even though Ron had been living in Hogsmeade for nearly a month, Harry still considered this room his. The very last thing he wanted was for Dudley to stay in there. "I mean, yeah, you can sleep there," he corrected rapidly before Dudley could start to whine again or Ginny could glower at him. He got out some clean sheets and handed them to Dudley.

"Thanks," Dudley replied, taking them. After an uncomfortable moment of silence he disappeared into his new room. When Harry and Ginny peered in, he was busy making the bed. It was probably the first time he'd ever done that in his life.

"I think this is going to be good for both of you," Ginny said, looking at Harry.

"Its only been one evening, don't get too excited."

"One day at a time," she replied happily. "Come on, let's go to bed."

They did so, but it was much later when they finally fell asleep. As a consequence it was later than usual when Harry stumbled out of bed.

He had forgotten that Dudley was staying there. The door to Ron's former room was closed, but Harry didn't notice this significant change as he walked past it in his drowsy state. It was not until he entered the kitchen that he was harshly reminded that he'd agreed to let his cousin stay.

Everything had been pristine when he and Ginny had gone to sleep the evening before. Now it looked as though a tornado had swept through the kitchen. Empty foot wrappings, dirty plates and what looked like the entire contents of the refrigerator littered every surface.

"Damn it, Dudley," Harry said angrily as he started to put things away. It had been mere hours since they'd gone to bed. How could one person accumulate such a mess in that short a time span? With each item he found, Harry's temper rose. When Ginny finally entered the kitchen and expressed her displeasure, Harry could not help but say I told you so.

"This is quite disgusting," she admitted, grimacing as she pulled the milk bottle out from under a greasy meat skin. "But -"

"Why are you defending him?" he demanded, turning to look at Ginny. "This place is a pig sty!"

"I'm not. I already said this was disgusting, didn't I? I just think that rather than jumping to rash decisions you should talk to him first."

"That won't do any good, Ginny. He's been doing stuff like this -" Harry held up an empty crisp packet "- for years. That's just the way he is."

"All the more reason that you should talk to him. His parents let him get away with that stuff, right? He probably doesn't realize . . . I'm sure that if you talk to him he'll correct it."

A thousand sarcastic comments came to mind as Harry watched Ginny. Not for the first time in recent weeks, he couldn't help wondering about her behaviour. Ginny wasn't typically this emotionally volatile. Yes, she had a temper, but she usually had better control over it than as of late. For the first time in weeks, Harry thought he should get to the bottom of Ginny's problems. He opened his mouth to ask her all the questions he'd been putting off, but at that moment a soft tapping on the window made him turn around. Hedwig had just returned from a night of hunting.

"Don't you have a report to hand in?" Ginny asked pushing past Harry to open the window.

The mention of his return to work made Harry's stomach clench just a little. He was going to find out today what fate had in store for him. He'd been fortunate in the past to have bad situations turn out his way. He crossed his fingers hoping that this luck would be with him, but somehow getting out of trouble for incidents at Hogwarts was a lot different than it was at the Ministry of Magic.

"Yeah." Harry looked down at his watch. He was running late again. If he didn't leave right this second, he was likely to be late. And I've got to go."

"Go, I'll take care of this." Ginny waved at the nearly clean kitchen as she returned Hedwig to her perch. Harry, busy gathering up his papers now, did not miss the exasperation in her voice.

"If you want me to –"

"No. You'll be late if you don't leave now. It would be stupid even for _you_ to be late."

Harry was about to say thanks to her, but stopped. He didn't like the emphasis she had put on 'you.'

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked angrily.

"We'll talk about it after work," Ginny said, not turning to look at him. "I'll see you later."

The finality in her tone, and the fact he should have left ten minutes earlier hastened his departure.

Harry had worried about what would happen when he returned to work, but he hadn't thought through what would actually happen. After the unpleasantness in his exchange with Ginny, his sense of unease was even higher than it otherwise would have been. He hurried through the atrium, brushing soot off his robes as he did so. Waiting for the lifts, Harry recalled standing here with Arthur Weasley on his first day. That had been almost two months ago now. He'd been nervous then too. Those nerves seemed laughable now.

Unlike that day seven weeks before, Arthur was not on the same lift as Harry. He kept his head down, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but that helped very little. As the lift trundled upwards several people greeted him, and offered their congratulations on the apprehension of Yaxley. Harry mumbled a reply and hastily looked away. Yesterday at this time he'd been chasing down the Death Eater. His first success as an Auror might be his only one.

"Potter," Moody's gruff voice called as soon as Harry stepped off the lift, "in here."

Harry entered Moody's office ahead of the man, and his spirits sunk even lower. Sitting in a chair just in front of Moody's desk was Tougas. He glared at Harry, but it looked as if he was trying to hide his sense of satisfaction. Harry glared back, but said nothing. Getting into a second shouting match was the very last thing he wanted to do.

"So," Moody said, moving to sit behind his desk, "you know why you're here, I trust?"

"Yes, sir." Harry flicked the edge of the parchment containing his report.

"I'll take that." Harry handed the roll to Moody, who placed it on the side of his desk. He seemed to have no interest in it. "Explain what happened yesterday."

After very briefly wondering why Moody didn't just read the report Harry recounted the events of the previous day. He talked for nearly twenty-five minutes, explaining everything that had led up to, and then what had transpired in capturing Yaxley. Several times he chanced a glance at Tougas. Harry noticed that as he talked the expression on his supervisor's face was becoming angrier and angrier. Moody wasn't looking impressed either, particularly when Harry began to recount the Muggle involvement. In contrast to Moody, Tougas seemed to be showing more pleasure as Harry continued to talk.

"So that's what happened, is it?" Moody asked shortly when Harry finally finished talking.

"Yes, sir," Harry said defiantly in advance of Tougas's contradictions.

"I see." Moody wasn't looking at Harry. He had at last turned his attention to the scroll of parchment he had set aside earlier. After unfurling it, he began to read.

Harry could do nothing but stare. Why now, after already hearing Harry's entire report, did Moody feel the need to read it? Did he not realize the agony this behaviour was causing? Was it actually possible that he was readying himself to tell Harry he was no longer an Auror? Was he using that report as a diversion so he could postpone the inevitable bad news?

After what felt like an eternity Moody looked up again. Harry tried to predict what words were coming, but he really had no clue. He always had been hopeless at divination.

"Well, Potter, I can't pretend that you handled the situation properly. It was downright stupid, if I'm being honest," Moody spoke in his usual gruff voice. "You realize that, don't you? That Muggle girl would have been killed had Tougas not been there to back you up."

"That's what I said, sir," Tougas said sycophantically.

Moody shot a warning glance at him, and Tougas sat back in his chair. He said nothing further, but he was looking quite triumphant. Swallowing the lump in his throat, and looking away from his supervisor quickly, Harry turned back to face the gnarled face of Alastor Moody.

"Be that as it may, I want to make sure you realize your errors, Potter. Do you?"

"Yes, of course. But I was following him –" Harry started. He felt incensed that he was being reprimanded for his suspect's actions. Moody held up his hand again.

"We all know that, Potter. You have to think about those things though – and try to prevent them if possible. Not only did you risk her life, but also the exposure of our world. That capture is going to mean a hell of a lot of paperwork. Did you know that we narrowly missed one of those Muggle reporters?"

"What?" Harry asked, "We couldn't have been more than a few minutes? How -?"

"One of those Muggles had a mobile phone," Tougas said. "Luckily he had a big mouth, too. We wouldn't have caught him otherwise."

Harry felt the lump in his throat sink all the way down into his stomach where it settled like a boulder. If what Tougas was saying was true, he was in for it for sure.

"Damned Muggles and their electronics . . . making it harder to maintain the statute of secrecy," Moody murmured. He seemed to have forgotten himself for a minute because he looked up at Harry, and cleared his throat before continuing.

"A nice mess, Potter. A real fiasco. You agree?"

"Yes," Harry mumbled, looking at his feet. It was only a matter of time until Moody would send him packing. He was already thinking of how he was going to break the news to Ginny when –

"All the same, it was a brilliant catch. This isn't the first time he's tried that escape."

Harry looked up so fast he cricked his neck. Moody let out a gruff laugh.

"Leave it to you to make such a mess, but to pull off one of the best captures I've seen in years."

"Er . . . " Harry felt confused. Was he being fired, or not?

"Relax, Potter. That was the last of the lecture," Moody said, laughing again. "I think after an evening's agony you've learned your lesson, no?"

"I suppose," Harry stated slowly, still unsure how to deal with the abrupt change in tone.

"It's a rookie mistake, we all make them. Right, Tougas?" Moody looked to his left; Harry followed his gaze.

Tougas was looking as angry as he had the day before when he had yanked Harry out of his seat. Rather than alarming Harry as it had the day before, this expression was rather amusing. It could not have been plainer that this meeting had taken a turn for the worse as far as Tougas was concerned. Moody's jab about blunders he had made caused his scowl to increase.

"Calm down. Tougas," Moody said, a trace of amusement in his voice. "So, Potter. Now you've learned your lesson, I have a proposition for you."

"Yes, sir?" Harry couldn't help the uncertainty in his question. The rapidity with which this meeting had changed left him feeling a little woozy. He didn't have the slightest idea what Moody was going to propose. Would it be good or bad?

"The task force has an opening I think you could fill."

"What?" This time it was not Harry, but Tougas who spoke up. From the volume and surprise in his question, it was clear he had known nothing about this offer.

"You heard me right, Tougas," Moody replied, warning once again evident in his words. "I think we could all use a fresh head on this case."

"But, sir . . . " Tougas glared at Harry. "After what happened yesterday, I would think –"

" – that this is a wise decision? Thank you, Tougas. You can wait outside while I talk to Potter." Moody spoke with such force and finality that Tougas was rendered speechless. He opened and closed his mouth several times but said nothing more. After a few seconds he stood up and walked out of the office.

Moody said nothing for a full minute, his magical eye fixed on the door. He was probably making sure that Tougas wasn't standing there listening, Harry thought. He was feeling his own sense of triumph now. Finally, Tougas was called out for his own temper!

"So, Potter, what do you think about becoming the seventh member of the task force?" Moody asked, turning his magical eye away from the door.

"Er . . . " Despite the reasons he had for not wanting to join, now he was actually faced with the offer, Harry couldn't help considering it. Much as he did not want to get involved in the search for Sirius's killer, he might help capture them. That would feel damn good.

"I've talked it over with the other members and they agree with me that we need fresh blood. With your instinct, you'd probably bring a lot in. Then maybe we can recapture those two vermin."

"Er . . . I – I guess so," Harry said slowly. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. He didn't know the other Aurors on the task force, aside from Tougas and Dawlish. Harry was not looking forward to working with Tougas again, especially after this meeting.

"Good. We meet first thing in the morning. You know that already though, I'd wager. I had you to deal with this morning though, so we've moved the meeting to this afternoon. In the meantime you can get busy. We have years of documents you're going to have to go through. It's going to be a hell of a lot of work. You'd better get started."

Moody got out of his seat, and Harry followed suit.

"Welcome to the team, Potter." Moody clapped him on the shoulder. "Good luck, you're going to need it."

"Thanks . . . I think." Harry followed Moody to the office door.

"The only case that's had more paperwork is the one we were building on You-Know-Who. We've got three shelves devoted to this damned case, and a girl who does nothing but organize them for us. Need anything – ask her. Wright, come here," Moody barked.

At first Harry had no idea who Moody was calling as he opened his office door, but a second later the short girl with mousy hair that Tougas was always talking to came hurrying over.

"Yes, sir?" she asked breathlessly, not looking directly at Moody. She was clearly intimidated by him.

"Potter has just joined the task force. I need you to bring him the files. He needs to be brought up to speed as soon as possible."

"All right." She had looked at Harry briefly when Moody had mentioned his name, but she was back to staring at her feet. Harry wished she wouldn't do that. Not for the first time he felt there was something oddly familiar about her, something related to Hogwarts, something unpleasant that he couldn't quite put his finger on. She looked like she could have gone to the school around the same time as he had. Maybe she had been one of those idiots who wore those Support Cedric Diggory badges.

"I've got work to do, and you've got reading to do. We'd best get to it," Moody said. He turned and made his way back into his office, leaving Harry alone with this girl, who could not seem to look at him. It was making him feel very uncomfortable.

"Hi," he said after a minute.

"Hi." She looked up at him quickly and then down at her feet.

"I guess we're going to be working together." Harry was unsure of what to say. The longer she stared at her feet, the more awkward he was starting to feel.

"Yes."

"Can you show me where to get started then? I haven't got a clue."

"Of course." Boy was she talkative!

"Thanks. Miss. Wright, was it?"

"Oh . . . yes." She looked at him again, but this time didn't look away. "But please don't call me that, Mr. Potter. M – my name's Briony." She managed a small smile.

"OK then, Briony. Then I'm Harry. I insist," he added when she looked like she was going to protest.

"O – OK, Harry," she said slowly, as though she were testing it out. It seemed like her test worked because she visibly relaxed just a little. "I'll – I'll go and get those files for you. You might want to make some room at your desk."

Unlike some of his neighbours, Harry's cubicle remained remarkably bare. Currently the only adornment was three pictures he'd put up over the first few weeks. One picture was from the most recent Christmas at the Burrow, the second a picture of himself, Ginny, Ron and Hermione taken the night the latter two announced their engagement. The third picture was of Ginny on the night she'd won her first Quidditch match with the Harpies. It was this picture Harry watched as he waited for Briony to appear. Ginny looked so happy then. No – she had been so happy then. Who wouldn't have been after that spectacular win? She'd scored six of the Harpies thirteen goals. They'd slaughtered their competition that night.

It was a fabulous start to an extraordinary season. Ginny had a lot to be happy about when it came to Quidditch. But it seemed that as her game got better, she got moodier. It was an odd relationship. Most people would have been happier if their career was going so well. When Harry had tried to talk to her on numerous occasions about her behaviour, Ginny had been evasive. Eventually he just gave up. Given her strange behaviour over the last months though, he was coming to regret that decision more and more. The longer they let things fester, the bigger the problem. The last thing he needed now, especially with Dudley around, was yet another problem.

Harry had moved on to possible conversation starters when Briony finally made her appearance, laden with a tower of parchment. She dumped them all on Harry's desk, causing some to fall on the floor.

"Oh no, no, no, no," she said frantically, bending down to pick them up.

"Its OK. Here, let me help."

"Thanks," she said, taking the scrolls Harry handed her, her hand trembling. She tried to smile weakly but couldn't seem able to manage it. As she blushed and looked down again Harry had a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Have we met before?" he asked. "I mean – I've seen you around here with Tougas, but . . . before that?"

Her hands trembled so much that the half-dozen scrolls she was still holding threatened to spill onto the floor again. Clutching them tightly, she nodded.

"The day you came to get your Apparition test."

"What?" Harry asked. He strained his memory for the details of that day. That had been over four years ago. So many things had happened since then. He remembered they had come with Mr. Weasley. Scrimgeour, the idiot, had shot himself in the foot with that stupid dedication to Sirius ruse. He'd got his Apparition license . . . but couldn't recall meeting her that day.

"I used to work for Arthur Weasley," she said, a little louder than before, but blushing an even darker colour. "I was the one who asked you about Scrimegeour. You know . . . we all thought that you'd agreed to help the Ministry."

Harry squinted, trying hard to recall more details of that day. After a few seconds he remembered that they'd stopped at Mr. Weasley's office. It had been a wholly uncomfortable twenty minutes. The dozen or so employees had all stopped what they were doing to come and greet Arthur, Ron and Harry. There had been one witch in particular who . . . who had reminded Harry of Delores Umbridge.

Now that day had come back to mind, Harry grimaced. He looked down at Briony and was shocked that he hadn't recognized her before. Moreover, he could now see why she had reminded him of Umbridge. Fortunately for the girl, she didn't have any of the features that made the foul witch look like a toad. It was more in the colour of her hair (which had been much closer to Umbridge's style four years earlier) and her stature. If one glanced at her fleetingly the resemblance was more striking than it was if looking at Briony properly. All the same, it was most unfortunate that she could remind anyone of that evil woman.

Briony gave Harry a faltering smile.

"I see you recall our last meeting. I must have made quite the impression on you." She was still speaking in little more than a whisper, but at least she had stopped staring at her feet. Harry wasn't sure he was impressed with this now.

"Yeah," he said shortly. The weak smile Briony wore slipped from her face and she returned to looking at the ground. "Sorry, I, just . . . you remind me of someone."

"Ah . . . I get that a lot." Briony said. "I must carry the unfortunate burden of looking a little too much like my aunt."

"What?" Harry asked, rather louder than he had intended. He was sure she must have mistook the individual he was speaking about. Despite the slight resemblance, there was no way that Briony could be related to such an evil hag.

"Delores Umbridge is my aunt," Briony said, making her meaning plain. She smiled at the look of disgust Harry knew he must be wearing. "I know how you feel."

"Y – your aunt?" Harry spluttered.

"I was not blessed at birth, I can tell you," Briony said. She spoke with a little more confidence and force than she had yet done in Harry's presence. "Please don't hold my family relations against me. If I could change it I would."

Harry said nothing for a minute. The shock of learning that this meek little thing was related to such an evil woman gave him a chilling feeling. Several times in his life he had been in the presence of people he thought were helping him, only to find out they were working for the Dark side. He thought he was much better at spotting it now than he was when he was a kid. But anyone associated with that old hag was worthy of caution.

"I can't imagine how this news has affected you, H – Harry," Briony began. "I know my aunt treated you in the most horrific ways when you were at Hogwarts. I was absolutely appalled and I told her as much." Briony frowned, clearly remembering something. "Stupid old bat," she burst out angrily. "Harry, that woman is evil to her frilly pink core!"

Harry burst out laughing, amused both by Briony's words, and her. He was also pleased to note that talking about Umbridge had relieved some of the awkwardness in their interactions.

"I couldn't agree with you more."

Never would he have thought he'd even remotely enjoy anything associated with Umbridge, but Harry found Briony to be quite delightful. She was still painfully shy, the antithesis of her aunt, but quite knowledgeable about the case. It was apparently her job to keep track of the files on the Malfoy-Lestrange case, as well as take notes at the meeting, which meant she was quite well versed on the case. The end result of this was that Harry was much farther ahead than he would have thought he'd be when he joined his first task force meeting.

Feeling almost as nervous as the first day he joined the department, Harry took a seat beside Dawlish, who gave him a quick acknowledging nod before turning back to the piece of parchment he was reading. Harry was glad he did this as it gave him a chance to look around the room. Almost every bit of wall was covered with some scrap of paper. There were maps that showed the suspected locations of the two Death Eaters, news reports on their alleged crimes, family trees, and pictures of the two suspects and their victims.

A familiar face caught Harry's attention and, feeling that familiar jolt, he stood up to get a closer look. Each of the known victims was plastered on a wall. Below a piece of parchment that looked like it contained the Black Family Tree was Sirius's face.

It was a photo of Sirius that Harry had – the one taken at his parent's wedding. Beside it was Sirius's name and manner of death. Surprisingly Harry didn't feel the strong reaction he had thought he would. Yes, he felt his blood start to heat up at the thought that his godfather's killer was still on the loose, but with any luck she'd be captured very soon and a horrible injustice would finally be rectified.

"Let's get started," Moody said as he entered the room. Harry quickly regained his seat. "First things first. In case you hadn't noticed, we have a new member joining us: Potter." Moody waved one of his gnarled hands in Harry's direction. "As you may or may not have heard, Potter here made a stupid but brilliant capture of Damien Yaxley."

Everyone but Tougas and Moody clapped and cheered. A dark-haired, olive-skinned woman sitting diagonally across the table from Harry spoke up.

"Good job, Potter. Yaxley's slimer than a slug. I know that Tougas here –"

"Enough, Schultz. We're not here to discuss people's resumes," Moody said shortly. "We have more important information to get out. Dawlish, Brazill, you had a report?"

The two people to Harry's right shuffled their papers and then Dawlish began to speak in his gritty voice.

"We've been able to confirm that both Greer and the Thompsons were Muggle-borns." Harry was the only one who did not groan at this news. Moody muttered some colourul expletives under his breath.

"I suppose we shouldn't have been surprised," said the witch on Dawlish's right. "I mean we are talking about two of You-Know-Who's biggest supporters."

Harry was trying to remember everything he'd read and that Briony had told him throughout the day. He couldn't remember those two names, or any mention of Muggle-borns.

"I'm sorry, but who are Thompson and Greer, and what does their being Muggle-born have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"You kept Briony tied up all day, and you don't even know this?" Tougas asked fiercely. He was glaring at Harry with more contempt than ever. It was quite clear that he loathed being in the same room. "What exactly did you do all day, Potter?"

"Tougas," Moody said in a warning tone.

"You can't really expect him to have caught up on everything. He's only been part of the team for six hours," said the witch who had spoken before. "Not everyone can read a thousand words a minute, Tougas."

"Right, Brazill, you fill Potter in then," Moody replied.

"All right." The witch leaned back in her chair, brushing a wisp of blonde hair from her face. "It's like this, Potter. We've been getting reports off and on for months about strange things happening to Muggle-borns. You know, people calling in reports of intruders and stalkers. They're paranoid because of all the Dark activity lately. At least that's what we thought until three weeks ago. A witch by the name of Ashley Greer disappeared on her way home from work. When Magical Law Enforcement was called out to investigate they found some suspicious circumstances – evidence of Dark Magic, you know. That's when we got involved. I think Savage and Proudfoot were on that case. Then we got a report last week that there was some strange happenings at Gringotts." Brazill stopped here and frowned. "Ruddy goblins. Trying to get information out of them is as bad as trying to get it out of a centaur. As far as we were able to get from them, one of their curse breakers – a bloke named Eric Thompson and his wife didn't show up for his mission in Romania. Same thing, when we showed up there was evidence of Dark Magic – the same signature too. To make a long story short, I happen to be friends with Williamson, who had started to investigate. We got to talking, and it seems like this might be the work of our lovelies up there." She pointed at the large pictures of Lucius and Bellatrix.

"They're targeting Muggle-borns?" Harry asked.

"I think this evidence speaks for itself. There aren't really that many of them around. To have three disappear so close together, under the same circumstances . . . " Brazill said.

"The Minister agrees," Moody stated. "As a few of you already know he has asked that in addition to our other duties we keep watch on the Muggle-borns that are currently in Ministry employ. Whether you have been assigned to guard a particular individual or not, I need not say that we should all be practicing constant vigilance. If you know of any Muggle-born not currently in the Ministry's employ – tell them straight away to at least go careful."

Everyone, including Tougas, was looking somber as they nodded in agreement with Moody's request. Harry's thoughts immediately strayed to Hermione. If what Brazill said was true, she could be a target. In most situations Hermione was more than capable of handling herself, but Bellatrix Lestrange was sadistic and had no limits when it came to her cruelty. He really hoped that someone good had been assigned to guard Hermione. He shuddered to think that someone like Mannix O'Hara could be assigned the job. Mannix was a decent bloke . . . but he could barely remember which was the dangerous side of his wand some days. How he had ever become an Auror . . . If anything happened to Hermione because of her guard, Harry would have more than a few things to say. He decided to talk to Moody about it after the meeting.

"Any other developments I have not been made aware of?" Moody asked, breaking the silent vigil that had commenced after his request. Everyone shook their head. "We're just about done here then. I have one last thing to request of you all. Miss. Wright has been doing an excellent job today but as Potter is new to this investigation, and to the department, I ask you help him out wherever possible." He looked around at each of them, his gaze seemed to linger on Tougas a second longer than anyone else. "Remember, we're all a team here. We all want the same thing – to catch those no-good scum that think it's their right to torture and murder people. Keep up the good work. We'll meet back here first thing Monday morning."

Desperate times call for desperate measures, Harry thought to himself as the other members of the task force began to leave. If he had to pull out his trump card to make sure Hermione got the best protection he was going to do it. Being Harry Potter meant that he had a lot of influence. He'd never used it before, at least not intentionally, because he didn't want it in the first place. But when it came to Hermione's safety . . . well, that was more important.

Before he left that evening Harry stopped by Moody's office.

"I thought you'd have been long gone, Potter," Moody said when Harry entered. "Don't you have a pretty red-head waiting for you at home?"

"Not tonight. Late Quidditch practice," Harry said, waving away Moody's comment. "I wanted to talk to you about Hermione actually."

"Miss. Granger? What about her?"

"She's a Muggle-born," Harry said quickly. "And if Brazill and Dawlish are right about Malfoy and Lestrange . . . "

"I'm way ahead of you Potter," Moody said. "Miss. Granger, so we're told, is of vital importance in her department. We were _advised_ not to stick some new trainee with her as soon as we announced that we were going to send out guards for Muggle-born employees." Moody was frowning. It was common knowledge that he hated interference in the running of his department. "So Tonks is guarding her."

"Oh." Harry felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Tonks was an excellent Auror, and highly amusing. Hermione would be in very safe hands. "I guess that's all then. Good night, sir."

"Say hello to Miss. Weasley for me, Potter," Moody called as Harry exited the office.

The events of that morning had been pushed to the back of Harry's mind given everything else that had happened to him. When he returned home and saw Dudley sprawled on the sofa everything came flooding back. Now though, it was just a slight twinge of annoyance. Perhaps it was a good thing that he hadn't talked to Dudley in the morning. At least now he'd be able to keep his head somewhat.

"Hi," Dudley said, sitting up and looking tense.

"What're you watching?" Harry asked, dropping his bag by the desk and then flopping down onto the other side of the couch. Perhaps he'd try to smooth things over.

"The news," Dudley said, still watching Harry nervously.

"The news? Since when did you watch the news?"

"Since - wait, what do you care?" Dudley questioned suspiciously.

"I've just never seen you watch the news before, OK. I was just trying to be nice. I won't do it again." Feeling irked, Harry stood up and walked back over to his desk. As he sat down he felt it was appropriate to add, "make sure you clean up the kitchen next time, eh. Gin and I aren't your servants."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Dudley said casually, not really sounding sorry at all, before turning his attention back to the news.

Vintage Dudley, Harry thought as he laid a scroll out on his desk and started to read. He had stacks and stacks of files to go through and wanted to get through as much of it as he could before Ginny got back. He had tuned out the television by the end of the first scroll and therefore did not notice when Dudley shut it off.

Harry felt like he was back at Hogwarts with Hermione's stupid homework planner as he consulted the list Briony had given him. She said it was best to get the most boring stuff out of the way first because he would be more alert, and able to retain it better. The more exciting documents would retain his attention of their own accord so they could be read later. She seemed like Hermione in miniature. Well, in terms of how smart she was. Hermione's bossiness was completely lacking in Briony, something Harry could live quite well without.

After experiencing a roller coaster of fear, anger, excitement, uncertainty, disgust and a host of other emotions he could not recall, Harry was feeling a little drowsy. Though he did not question Briony's order of readings he was finding the Malfoy lineage worse than legalese. Somewhere around the nineteenth century he fell asleep. Reading about Malfoy's great-grandfather, who had campaigned successfully for a law that made mixed blood-status marriages illegal (a law repealed two years later) wasn't even disgusting enough to hold his attention.

It was the sound of breaking glass that made Harry wake with a start. He jumped to his feet knocking his papers everywhere in the process. He had his wand at the ready, and was scanning the flat quickly for an intruder.

"You're wound a little tight, aren't you?" Dudley asked nervously, holding the bottom half of a broken glass in his hand.

"Reparo," Harry said, pointing his wand at the glass; the shards in the sink flew back together and reformed in Dudley's hand. He watched with his mouth agape. When the glass was whole again, Dudley held it up and inspected it.

"How'd you do that?" he asked, awe in his tone.

"Magic," Harry said as he bent down to pick up his scattered papers.

"Here," Dudley said after a minute. He set down the glass, came over and started picking up the papers too. This action caused Harry to stop what he was doing and look at his cousin.

"What are you doing?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Helping you pick these up." Dudley turned a paper over and glanced at it. "What is all this anyway?"

"Stuff for work. Information on a case I'm working on."

"The Cruciatus Curse," Dudley read slowly. "The Killing Curse?" He looked up in alarm. "You can actually kill someone using magic?"

"Course you can. That's how your mum and dad died, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dudley said quietly. He remained crouched on the floor for a minute, in silence, apparently recalling the death of his parents. The parchment he still held in his hand crunched a little as his grip tightened on it. "So what's the Cruciatus Curse then?" he asked as he handed the parchment to Harry.

"Torture Curse."

"You're kidding?"

"'Fraid not." Harry stood up and piled the parchment on his desk again. "Magic isn't all fun and games you know. There's some really horrible things that can be done with it."

"I know." Dudley had regained his full height too, but he wasn't looking at Harry. He was staring at the pile of parchment, his eyes out of focus. After a minute he came back to himself. "I've got to go."

As Dudley disappeared into his room Harry sat down at his desk once more and dug out the parchment he had been reading. Within seconds he was back in a stupor.

So many people thought they knew Harry. They thought that he lived some glamorous life. Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, Auror, dating the prettiest Quidditch player out there . . . but that wasn't true at all. Well, OK the Auror and the prettiest Quidditch player were, but a glamorous life that did not make, Harry thought as he again pulled himself out of a doze and wiped a tiny drop of drool from his mouth. How many glamorous people sat at home working on a Friday night?

When Dudley made his second appearance of the night Harry decided to take a break from reading. He hadn't taken in anything on the last half a scroll he'd read anyway. He watched Dudley putting on his watch, and checking his reflection in the mirror that hung by the door.

"I'm going out," Dudley said. "Want to come?"

"No, thanks," Harry replied. He knew Dudley was just asking to be nice, in itself an odd occurrence, because he seemed relieved when Harry refused.

"Suit yourself." Dudley disappeared again. When he returned a second later he was shoving his wallet and keys into his pocket. He smiled cheekily as he said, "don't wait up."

Shaking his head, Harry turned back to his parchment.

_. . . suspects are considered purebloods with anti-Muggle-born leanings _

"Dudley, wait," Harry called as he heard the door open. "Come back here for a minute."

He was feeling a little stupid and guilty. They'd talked just this afternoon about protecting Muggle-borns. Harry had immediately thought of Hermione and his own cousin hadn't even come to mind. Dudley was so obviously Muggle-born that he would be the first target if he had the unfortunate luck to come across Malfoy or Lestrange.

"There's something I want to talk to you about before you leave," Harry said. Dudley looked at him questioningly as he returned to the living room. "I think you should take your wand with you tonight."

"Why?" Dudley asked, sounding honestly curious.

"Because there's an awful lot of Dark Magic being performed out there. You haven't got a chance of protecting yourself against it if you don't have your wand."

"I don't think that's going to matter much. I haven't got much of a chance even with a wand. You know how bad I am at magic." Dudley's honesty must have shocked even him. He was shifting from one foot to the other, and spending an awful lot of time examining his fingernails.

"You've had some of the best tutors out there. Moody, McGonagall, Kingsley, Lupin. You never know what might come to mind if necessary."

"OK," Dudley said slowly.

"For the foreseeable future I would recommend having your wand on you at all times. As you're obviously a Muggle-born you could be at greater risk."

"At greater risk of what? And what's a Muggle-born?" Dudley asked. He was now looking at Harry as though waiting for the punch line to a lame joke.

"You're a Muggle-born. You – you do know what that is, don't you?" Harry asked sure that Dudley was being thickheaded. He sighed when Dudley shook his head and launched into the explanation of blood status. Dudley watched him, looking confused.

"So . . . because mum and dad couldn't perform magic, I might be in more danger?" Dudley asked fifteen minutes later, and for the fourth time.

"Yes," Harry said exasperatedly. "Which is why it is imperative that you have your wand with you going forward."

Dudley didn't say another word. He disappeared into his room again. This time he didn't return immediately. Harry waited for a minute and when his cousin did not reappear he settled himself down and began to read once more. If he was lucky he'd be able to finish reading everything and still have some of his weekend left to enjoy.

Several minutes later Dudley reappeared, looking a little disheveled.

"I was beginning to worry that I'd lost it," he said, holding up his oak and dragon heartstring wand to show Harry. He tucked it into his pocket. "I wish Hermione hadn't made my holster disappear. It'll come in handy if I have to carry this thing around all the time."

"She does tend to react rashly when she gets annoyed," Harry stated. Hermione had vanished the holster when Dudley's sword unsheathing act became unbearable to herself, Ron, Harry and Ginny.

"Well . . . I guess I'll be off now," Dudley said though he stood rooted to the spot. He was watching Harry with a weird expression on his face. It looked like he wanted to say something but had forgot how to work his mouth.

"Bye, Big D.," Harry replied and turned back to his papers to avoid the awkwardness. It was only after he heard the door close that he looked up from his work. Seeing that Dudley had finally left he sighed and leaned back in his chair. This morning he was ready to kick Dudley out and now he was insisting that Dudley be careful out there? Was it actually possible that he, Harry, could care about what happened to Dudley Dursley?

Impossible!

Harry shook his head to clear it and returned to his work, the one thing that made sense.


	6. Arthur's Advice

Technically speaking Tougas was still Harry's supervisor but they had fewer one-on-one interactions now that Harry was part of the task force. In fact, they barely saw each other. Harry suspected that Moody had something to do with this, as he tended to keep the pair of them as far apart as possible during meetings. Whatever the case, Harry was glad that he didn't have to spend his days listening to Tougas's nonsense. Instead he was spending his time bleary eyed as he read the never-ending pile of reports that had been gathered on the case. Even life on the illustrious task force didn't live up to the exciting image Harry had of what an Auror did. More than once, as he read late into the night, he thought that Hermione would have been well suited to be an Auror after all; but she preferred her job, knee deep in regulations for magical creatures. She still harbored the desire to take S.P.E.W. further.

Briony had been a huge help on the case. Harry really didn't know where he would be without her. She knew more about the case than any of the Aurors. She read every new brief that came in the minute it had, and had worked out the most efficient filing system imaginable. She also seemed to have taken it upon herself to make sure Harry was up to date. He appreciated this, but was getting extremely tired of Tougas's comments. So were the other members of the task force. Over the previous days several of them had told him to put a sock in it.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Harry leaned back in his chair. His vision was so blurred that he didn't think he'd be able to read another word anyway. A break was just what he needed to recall the pleasant event of Tougas being called out on his behaviour.

"Here you go."

Harry nearly fell out of his chair as Briony's voice broke the silence. The two front legs crashed to the ground jarringly. As he attempted to stabilize himself, Harry knocked down a scroll of parchment.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said, handing him a cup of coffee. "I just thought you could use this."

"Yeah, thanks." Harry took the cup as he unrolled the scroll and prepared to continue reading. It wasn't his document after all. It contained the insignia of the Department of Mysteries. "Oh, I think this got mixed in with our papers accidentally."

"Oh that's mine," Briony said quickly, snatching the parchment from his hands. She had a distinctly guilty look on her face. Harry looked at her quizzically.

"What are you doing with an Unspeakable's report?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing. Just . . . research." She would not look at him. While this was not an uncommon reaction for Briony to have while she was in his presence, there seemed to be something different about this. A guilty reaction perhaps?

"What sort of research?" Harry asked, crossing his arms. As far as he knew they weren't following any leads that could take them to an Unspeakable. And, whatever the situation, brilliant as she was with the case, Briony was not an Auror.

She glanced around wildly, as though she was looking for something to answer her question. Harry watched her do this. He wasn't going to make any suggestions that could help her in formulating a lie. After an extensive ten seconds, she glanced around one last time, sighed and then leaned in a little closer.

"OK. It's not official research. I'll tell you, but can you keep this to yourself. If anyone knew . . . especially Bredan or Moody –" She shuddered. " – they'd go ballistic."

Harry shrugged noncommittally. He wasn't going to agree to keep anything quiet for her until he had a better idea of what it was. He'd been in too many situations where he'd agreed to something and then it turned out for the worse. Several of Hagrid's 'pets' came to mind.

This was good enough for Briony though. She pulled up a chair and sat down very close to Harry.

"I have a friend who is an Unspeakable. She's the one who has been getting me this information. After reading the reports from Brazill on what they found at the Thompson abductions I began to wonder . . . My friend, the Unspeakable, had told me that their current research is focusing around emotion. Now that You-Know-Who is gone –" She stopped here and gave Harry a shy, appreciating smile " – they're very interested in fear."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, leaning back again, his arms crossed. He couldn't prove it, knowing so little about what the Unspeakables got up to in the Department of Mysteries, but this seemed a little far-fetched. "What are they hoping to learn by studying fear?"

"Oh, all sorts," Briony said evasively. "How people deal with it, what causes it, the chemical reactions in the body, how it affects magic."

"What have they learned?"

"I don't know," Briony looked confused for a moment and her eyes seemed to lose focus. "This is the first report she's given me . . . " She started to read with her brow furrowed. After reaching the end she put it down, looking disappointed. "I think she's told me all this already. Oh well . . . back to official work, I guess. It's going to be another long night, I see."

"Yeah. I – oh, damn." Harry looked down at his watch and immediately jumped to his feet. He was supposed to have been at the Burrow an hour and twenty minutes ago. Ginny was going to be livid having specifically told him that morning not to be late again. In his haste to get up, Harry knocked over the untouched cup of coffee, right onto the largest pile of parchment stacked on his desk. "Damn," he said again, checking his watch. This was the last thing he needed now.

"Just go, I'll deal with it," Briony replied, sounding much more relaxed. She actually smiled at him.

"Thanks," Harry called, already halfway down the aisle.

Mere seconds later he was standing in the dark back garden at the Burrow. The house was lit up, and he thought he could hear laughter inside. Maybe that was a good sign. If Ginny were one of the ones laughing maybe she wouldn't flay him for being late. One could only hope.

Keeping his fingers crossed, Harry entered the kitchen. It was completely empty. The dishes washing themselves in the sink were the only evidence that people had been here recently. He also discovered that he had been right. There were loud bursts of laughter coming from the sitting room. It sounded like a celebration was going on. He started towards the room to determine what had caused such a cheery environment.

"'Arry?"

Coming out of the sitting room was none other than Gabrielle Delacour, smiling coquettishly.

"Er . . . hi, Gabrielle," he said uncomfortably. Of late she'd taken to acting like this in his presence. It had led to a great deal of awkwardness. Bearing this in mind, Harry started to lengthen his stride, in an attempt to make it to the sitting room where there were other people. She swooped down upon him though before he could accomplish this and planted a kiss on either cheek.

"Eet 'as been too long, 'Arry." She didn't remove her hands from their original position when she had kissed him.

"Gabrielle, arrêt." Fleur said, sounding angry. Her sister backed away form Harry as they both turned to look at her. Harry felt his heart rate increase. Fleur was not alone – Ginny was there with her and they each had a sleepy toddler in their arms.

Ginny did look absolutely livid. She glanced from Gabrielle to Harry, raised an eyebrow and then swept up the stairs. Harry started to follow but Fleur stopped him.

"Eef I were you, 'Arry. I would not go up zere. Let me talk with 'er first. Oui?" She waited for Harry to nod and then turned back to her sister. "Attendez-moi ici. Ne bouger pas."

The sitting room was full again. Every Weasley, minus Charlie, was crammed into the room, along with Hermione, Lupin and Tonks. Everyone was sitting except for Remus Lupin who was standing up, glass in hand, and swaying precariously. As all attention seemed to be focused on him, Harry guessed he was the reason for all the laughter but he couldn't imagine what could be that funny.

"Harry." Lupin called jovially stumbling over to the door where Harry was standing. He barely managed to retain his balance. He might not have made it if Harry wasn't there. "Good to see you, mate." He flung his arm around Harry's shoulder, raising his half-full glass of FIrewhiskey. "We're having a celebration here. I'm going to be a father."

"You're what?" Harry asked as he helped to steady the older man.

"I'm pregnant," Tonks replied. She was watching her husband with mixed amusement and worry.

"You're pregnant?" Harry asked, to make sure he had heard correctly. Tonks nodded and a broad smile spread across her face, illuminating it. "I found out last week, but because of the full moon . . . " 

"Oh, wow. Well, congratulations." Harry clapped Remus on the back, causing the man's knees to buckle. It was only by grabbing the back of Remus's blazer that Harry was able to prevent him hitting the ground. This didn't seem to faze him at all. He slung his arm around Harry's shoulders again, holding his glass loosely.

"Congratulations are in order, indeed." Arthur spoke up raising his own glass. "I'm sure you will both make your son or daughter proud."

"Yessir." Remus downed the remainder of his drink. He smiled comically for a minute then his expression faltered and his look of glee turned to a look of worry. "I'm going to be a father," he responded weakly. He turned to look at Harry, grabbing a fistful of Harry's robes. "I'm going to be a father?" He sounded panicked. Harry nodded, not knowing what else to do. Without another peep Lupin slumped to the floor.

"Remus?" Tonks called, rushing over. The others quickly followed suit.

"He's just unconscious," Harry told them, straightening up after checking Lupin's pulse. He and Ron lifted Remus onto the couch, Tonks trailing closely behind.

"I can't believe he fainted," she said, again sounding both amused and concerned.

"I think passed out is more like," George said, pocketing a galleon Fred had just handed him. "He did drink about half a bottle of Firewhiskey."

"Yeah. If only he could have held out one more glass," Fred replied, sounding disappointed.

"Fred, George," Molly warned.

"I think he held up remarkably well," Arthur piped up. "A lot better than I did when Molly first told me she was pregnant with Bill. I think I was gone after half a glass."

"Lightweight," Fred murmured, standing next to Harry.

"And he didn't even drink it." Bill clapped his father on the shoulder affectionately. "You and Remus are both a bunch of softies. I can't believe I'm the only one here who didn't lose consciousness when my wife told me she was pregnant." His smug grin was short-lived as a loud throat clearing announced Ginny's return.

"You may have remained conscious," she said. "but you're the only one who required medical attention."

The entire room laughed.

"How was I to know it was a trick broom?" Bill shrugged. He didn't seem at all embarrassed over the spectacular crash he had taken when trying to let off his glee about Fleur's pregnancy by doing a loop-the-loop. Never much of a flyer, he'd rammed headlong into a large birch tree and suffered a rather severe concussion.

"And Bill was just the first. We still have Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Ron here," Arthur patted his youngest son on the back. Ron let out a little splutter. "That should be worth a few laughs, don't you think, Harry?"

"Oh, I . . . dunno." Harry had been watching Ginny, who was doing her utmost to avoid looking at him and hadn't been listening at all. She was obviously still furious with him.

"If her reaction is to be held as any indication, we know one bloke who's not going to have to worry about that for a long time," Fred said. He and George exchanged evil grins before clapping Harry on the back and walking away. He took George's empty chair next to Ron and listened to Percy lecturing Ron and Arthur on the latest happenings in International Law. It was quite as boring as his old lectures on Cauldron thickness had been.

"Intriguing," Arthur said after a time. "I can't imagine that Kingsley will go for that though. Much as we want to crack down on dark wizards entering this country, it would take away too many liberties of the law abiding citizens."

"I don't know. I think we have a pretty convincing argument, father," Percy retorted. "If it's true that Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy aren't even in the country most of the time . . . With new restrictions on Apparition it would make it easier to catch them."

"Where are you getting this information?" Harry asked. "Because none of the reports I've read mention anything about them being abroad."

Percy looked affronted that he was being contradicted. "Is that really your concern?" he asked finally, apparently not able to come up with anything else.

"Yes," Harry, Ron and Arthur all responded, making him recoil.

"He's part of the team that's trying to capture them, dolt," Ron stated angrily.

"I just want to know where this is coming from. If we haven't heard of it and there's any validity to what you're hearing, we might be able to get them." Harry wanted to convey to Percy that he wasn't giving him the third degree. For all the good it did though, he might as well not have said anything. Percy was still glaring.

"I heard it from a colleague. Will that suffice?"

"What's their name?" Harry demanded, his voice rising as his annoyance with Percy started to increase. Again Percy took his time answering, finally doing so only after first looking at the impatient look Arthur was giving him.

"Mafalda, OK. Mafalda Hopkirk. She said she heard from a friend who knows someone on the task force who said this was true."

Harry leaned back in his chair, sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. Information filtered through that many people was probably useless. It was still interesting that Percy was hearing this though. They were not supposed to be discussing the case outside of the task force meetings. Who could possibly have mentioned something that would get passed down to someone in International Law? If they had a leak . . . It was something to bring up at the next meeting for sure.

"Speaking of the task force, how's it going?" Arthur asked. "Is Alastor a slave driver?"

"No. He's a lot more tolerable than Tougas," Harry admitted. "I don't see him more than once a day though."

"Yes, he told me that you're neck deep in research right now," Arthur smiled sympathetically. "Briony's got to be a big help there."

"Briony?" Ron and Percy both looked at Harry suspiciously. He, however, recalled that he had been meaning to speak with Arthur for weeks about her. She seemed decent enough, but four years in the real world had made him a little wary about trusting people. A second opinion was always well worth it, especially from someone who had worked with her for close to two years.

Ignoring Ron and Percy's continued stares, Harry broached his question.

"She has been helpful, but do you think she's really . . . trustworthy?"

"Why, Harry? Has she done something to make you question her?" Arthur asked.

"No. Well . . . " He thought about this evening, but decided he'd hold off on those details for now. "No, I don't think so. I just don't know what to think of her. She seems shy half the time, but then the other times she's a little too inquisitive, you know?"

"I think there's a completely innocent reason for that." Arthur was smiling. "I think she's a little smitten with you, Harry."

Harry groaned. This was the very last thing he needed.

"I just thought she was shy," he said dispiritedly.

"Well, she is that, too. She tended to keep to herself when she was in my department. She did take rather a lot of ribbing after your visit the day you came to get your Apparition test." Arthur stopped for a minute and a small smile played across his face. "I think that she's had a hard time of things. Being related to Dolores Umbridge –"

"Ew," Ron said, looking at Harry apologetically. "You've got to work with Umbridge's relative?"

Harry waived away Ron's comment, waiting to hear the rest of what Arthur had to say.

" – Being related to Dolores Umbridge hasn't been easy for her. She's not like her aunt, Ron. In fact, if I hadn't happened to hear her talking about it I would never have known. I think the only concern you should have, Harry, is that she has a rather close friendship with Bredan Tougas. They spend rather a lot of time together."

"I noticed that," Harry said. He didn't hold it against Briony, although he did wonder how she could spend time with that moron. Arthur's words did make him feel a lot better though. He'd never led Harry wrong with his advice before. "She's actually been a lifesaver. I don't know how I would have got through the last few weeks without her. She knows the case better than anyone else on the task force."

"And you were with her tonight? No wonder Ginny's so pissed," Ron said.

"Well, actually . . . " Harry strained his memory to recall if he had even mentioned Briony to Ginny. He couldn't recall doing so. "I don't think I've mentioned her." He wondered if he should not have said this to two of her brothers and her father. "It just, you know, never came up."

Ron drew in a contemplative breath, Percy scowled worse than ever, and Arthur was staring intently at Harry making him wish that he had kept his mouth shut after all.

"I – I didn't think it was a big deal. I mean, we're just working together," he said quickly, keen on dispelling any ideas that might have been occurring to them. "I wasn't trying to hide anything from her – there's nothing to hide in the first place."

"Are you expecting us to believe that after working extremely long hours with this girl, it never once came up in your conversations with my sister?" Percy asked.

"Yes. To be fair, we haven't seen each other much lately anyway." This statement, intended to make things better, actually made them worse, at least in terms of Percy's reaction. Arthur, perhaps seeing Harry blunder his way through this conversation, was trying to conceal a smile. Ron looked uncertain.

"Come with me," he said standing up and heading into the kitchen. Harry followed.

Fleur and Gabrielle were still there, conversing heatedly in French. Ron barely spared them a glance as he kept his pace right outside into the chill February air. Once the door had closed he turned to face Harry.

"So what's going on?" he demanded.

"Nothing, Ron. Like I said –"

"I know what you said, Harry. I was there. I also know that you and Ginny have been touchy for ages. It seems pretty coincidental that you're spending all this time with some other girl and conveniently you've forgotten to mention it. It seems kind of fishy if you ask me."

"It isn't," Harry said responding with a forced calm, quite unlike the building fury in Ron's voice.

"You sure? Because if you're doing anything that will hurt her – I swear- best mate or not –"

"Look, I'll go in there and tell her about Briony right this second –"

"That won't be necessary."

Both Harry and Ron turned to see Ginny come outside. The look she was currently fixing Harry with made him feel colder than the chilly evening had done. "I'll take it from here, Ron."

Ron didn't protest at all as he turned and reentered the house. Harry dearly wished he was following.

"So . . . " he said, "I guess you heard that . . . about Briony I mean."

Ginny said nothing.

"It really isn't anything to be concerned about, Gin. Like I told Ron, it just never entered my mind. Its not like we've spent loads of time discussing work lately anyway."

Still Ginny said nothing. She had turned her back and was staring over at the frozen garden. Harry watched her at it for some time before he had another go at getting her to speak to him.

"With work taking up so much time lately I haven't been thinking about anything other than this damned case."

Ginny continued to stare in the opposite direction, but she seemed to still be quite angry. Harry tentatively reached out and touched her shoulder, hoping she would turn around and look at him. It was so much easier to gauge her fury when he could see her expression. She did turn around but before he could so much as register her expression she had a vice-like grip on his arm and had twisted them both into blackness.

In the angry state she was in, Ginny felt it was lucky se hadn't splinched herself or Harry. They landed hard in the dark alley just outside his flat. As soon as she got her bearings she marched off briskly. If they didn't get someplace where they could talk she just might explode.

Harry kept step with her all the way. Once they were in the flat he threw his wand on the table, then he turned to watch her with a fearful and expectant look in his eyes. Ordinarily this would have amused her but today Ginny was much too angry.

"So," she said in a voice of forced calm, folding her arms across her chest. "You were so eager to explain a few minutes ago, now here's your chance."

Harry launched into a long explanation riddled with apologies regarding his supposed oversight about this Briony person. Nothing he was saying calmed her at all. It had never been like Harry to forget things this important. Perhaps Percy's suspicions were bang on. Having this thought made Ginny want to use her wand but she restrained herself. She listened with growing impatience.

"She's friends with Tougas," Harry said as if that settled the matter. "Combine that with the fact she's related to Umbrige – even if you and I weren't together . . . " Harry trailed of with a small shudder.

"And Gabrielle? You two looked rather cozy."

"I . . . wh – Gin, she's _fifteen_," Harry said indignantly. "I can't believe you could even think that I would . . . she's just a kid."

"I don't know what to think lately. For all I know you've got a wife and kid on the mainland." She said it out of anger, but it was perfectly true. Over the last month in particular, ever since he had started on that stupid task force, Harry had been around less and less, and even when he was physically there he was buried in work – in itself an odd occurrence. This was starting to annoy her to no end. Six months ago Ginny would have never believed she could ever be suspicious of Harry.

"You're one to talk," he shot back. "You've been stomping around here for months now, insisting everything's fine. Yet every time someone's looked at you funny you've either run off or started yelling at us. What's up with that then?"

Ginny should have known he was going to bring up that stupid attempt at asking her to move in. He had said he understood when they talked but apparently he had not. She supposed she shouldn't be all that surprised given how he didn't seem to understand the simple fact of why she'd been so frustrated lately. She rolled her eyes.

"If you'd been spending more time here than with _Briony_ –" she put particular emphasis on this name, feeling the sneer in her voice "- maybe you would have figured that out on your own."

"I've been trying," Harry said, frustration evident in his voice as well. "But you get like this every time I try to talk to you."

"Like what exactly?" She narrowed here eyes, not at all liking the tone Harry was taking.

"All defensive – why won't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"You, you, you. Why is it always about you? There are two of us in this relationship, you know. Or have you forgotten that, caught up as you are with all your fan girls like _Briony_. Maybe the papers have it backwards. I'm not the one all about town – you are.'"

"I don't think of you like that," Harry said softly, sounding hurt, ignoring the rest of her comment.

"Oh, but wait, I forgot . . . I'm not really your girlfriend anyway. I guess I shouldn't let this all bother me." Recalling the accusations that had been floating around over the last few months did nothing to assuage her anger.

"Rita Skeeter again, Gin?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "I thought you were over that."

"I am," she said defiantly.

"Doesn't sound like it. This is exactly the sort of behaviour that I was talking about before. You never used to be like this. Its almost as odd as you and Dudley –"

"Me and Dudley?"

"Yeah. Why, after so many years of complaints about him, did you suddenly force him down my throat?" Ginny thought, judging by the speed with which he asked the question, that Harry had been wanting to ask it for some time.

"I don't see you complaining."

How many times was he going to drone on about this? She'd told him numerous times that she just thought Harry should take some time to get to know his cousin before it was too late. If they were going to hate each other so be it; however she was not going to allow them to go on loathing each other on principle alone. She'd clearly made the right decision. Over the last month Harry and Dudley had been getting on quite well. So much so that Harry had even agreed to let Dudley stay on as his flatmate for the foreseeable future.

"You were right about that," Harry conceded, "but you can't tell me you foresaw it."

"It doesn't take unparalleled genius to realize that making negative assumptions about each other doesn't make for a healthy relationship."

Harry folded his arms and stared at the floor in silence. He had lost the ability to verbalize his thoughts. In a happier time this would have amused Ginny greatly, now it just made her want to hex him. Instead she stood there, impatiently tapping her foot, waiting for him to regain his use of speech. When he did he only dug himself a deeper hole.

"Is there something with you today?" Harry asked again. "Is it -?"

"Is it what?" She fired the question at him, and watched him recoil, feeling little emotion.

"Nothing – never mind – forget it." Ginny had an idea of what he might have wanted to ask.

"What were you going to ask? Whether it was that time of the month?" The way he shifted uncomfortably told her she was not far off the mark. "Merlin, Harry . . . why is it that both you and my brothers think that every time a woman is angry it is because of _feminine problems_?"

"So what is it? You can't really expect me to believe you're angry about a coworker and Gabrielle Delacour, Gin. We both know this goes back months."

"You're right. I'm not mad about them, just about the fact that you've been lying to me about them for who knows how long."

"I haven't been . . ." Harry started to say through clenched teeth. "And anyway, you're the one who keeps saying you're fine only to blow up again." He watched her closely for a time, obviously coming to his own conclusions about what was bothering her. She watched him at it, seeing his thoughts displayed in his facial expression long before Harry said anything. Nevertheless, she liked them no more when he actually spoke his words. "Maybe those stories aren't as far –fetched as I thought them. Did Rita Skeeter really have a clue? Are you really out there with other blokes?" From the way he was speaking, Ginny registered that he wanted an answer to the question about as much as she did about that Briony person. The fact he was even considering the idea based on information he got from Rita Skeeter though . . . that was intolerable. She reacted instinctively, punching him hard in the arm.

"Git," she said angrily before leaving the flat completely. It would be very dangerous for her to stay – dangerous for Harry that was.

It hadn't been that long since she'd left home with Harry, but it seemed that the party had ended. The Burrow was completely silent with only a small light shining from the kitchen window. There was no one in the kitchen when Ginny entered. She was both relieved and annoyed at this. She didn't have anyone she could vent to. Then again anyone here that she could talk to had likely heard it all before. She found relief overwhelming her. She'd have some time to think things over.

Still feeling the blood pounding in her temples, Ginny stood at the window facing the back yard, thinking. She really didn't want to believe that Harry was doing the sorts of things that Percy thought he was. Before today it had been something to laugh at, despite Rita Skeeter's published rubbish. But it had never been like Harry to keep things from her. This was a most unwelcome turn of events, to put it mildly.

"Ginny? What are you doing here?"

"Hi, dad," she said, turning away from the window for the first time. Her father was standing at the bottom of the stairs in his dressing gown.

"We thought you were staying at Harry's tonight."

"Not bloody likely," she muttered, not meeting her father's eyes as they opened wide at her words.

"Something troubling you, Ginny? Are you and Harry having a row?"

"Yes." She said it louder than she had meant to, thinking about the conversation she'd just had with Harry and feeling her anger start to rise again.

"Ah. Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," she said stubbornly and resumed pacing. Ginny saw her father continue to watch her for a few seconds and then he proceeded to the cupboard, grabbed several cups and began to make tea, asking Ginny if she wanted one, which she refused. As Arthur made to leave the room Ginny suddenly burst out, "you know, it wouldn't be so bad if he would just stop acting like he doesn't know what's wrong. I mean . . . who wouldn't have a problem with their boyfriend spending all this time with other girls?"

"Very few, I'd imagine," Arthur said quietly. He looked down at his tea. "Are you sure that's all that's bothering you, sweetie?"

"Is that all – isn't that enough?" Ginny asked furiously. "Dad, he's never done this before. He's never kept anything from me. Well . . . " She trailed off, recalling that her statement was not entirely true. Harry had, of course, kept the truth about hunting down Hrocruxes from her for a long time. But there was a huge difference between what he had done then and this situation. With Voldemort it had been a matter of life and death. "He's been lying to me about this Briony girl. If there was really nothing to hide, why would he do that?"

Arthur let out a soft laugh, causing Ginny to stop pacing and stare at her father. He found this funny? Realizing his mistake, her father stopped laughing and stared down into his cup as he spoke.

"It is distressing that he has been keeping things from you. But you've been upset with him for a long time already. This cannot stem all from the last four weeks, or be all about a girl you have no reason to worry about."

"I thought you were supposed to be on my side." Ginny was still fixing her father with an angry expression. So much for support!

"I am, but . . . you do tend to be like your mother, sweetie, shooting first and asking questions later." He smiled at her and gestured for them to both sit down. At first Ginny thought of refusing, but she gave in and took the chair across the table. She watched her father for a moment as he took a sip of his tea and then examined his hands. He looked like he was thinking of how best to phrase his words. He looked around the kitchen wistfully.

"It seems like just yesterday that your mother and I were moving in here with Bill and Charlie. They were just toddlers then. And now look." He smiled weakly. "Forgive me for sounding like your mother here, but you all grew up so fast."

"Not from where I'm sitting," she responded dully, not feeling up to taking a stroll down memory lane with her father.

"No. I suppose time does tend to travel much slower when you're young." Arthur gazed out the dark window, recalling something that he did not vocalize. Ginny watched him, her impatience increasing. She very much wanted to tell him to get on with it, but held her tongue. It was a rare thing for her father to reflect on their childhood. When he did she and her brothers had learned long ago that it was generally much quicker to let him go at his own pace than to try hurrying him along.

"You, most of all, seemed to grow up far too fast. I think that had a lot to do with being the youngest. You always wanted to do what your brothers were doing." He paused again and sipped some more tea in silent contemplation, the corners of his mouth upturned though the amusement did not reach his eyes. "I think that Harry had a lot to do with it, too. And I'm not just talking about these last five years."

Again Ginny thought of interrupting, but know that anything she'd say would cause her anger to increase. Given her father's current reflective state she once again was able to reign in her fit of fury, shrugging noncommittally instead.

"Can you tolerate the ramblings of your old dad a little longer, Ginny?" he asked quietly, sounding more serious than was customary.

"Yeah, I suppose," she responded. It was only under the gravest situations that she had seen her father with such a serious face.

"Promise you won't explode? I don't think I'm quite as brave as Harry when it comes to your temper." Again his smile was only cursory.

Ginny nodded, not able to return her father's smile this time.

"I don't think your childhood could have passed any faster if Molly and I used a time turner. One day you were this tiny little bundle of blankets, and the next you were off to Hogwarts. Your mother and I barely had a chance to adjust to your going off to school when – well I'm sure you remember that first year better than anyone. If Harry hadn't been there . . . " Arthur and Ginny both shuddered in unison. Whenever possible Ginny and her family avoided any mention of the events of the first year she spent at Hogwarts. She shifted uncomfortably as she allowed herself to contemplate her father's words. It was perfectly true that she might not be sitting here today if it hadn't been for Harry. But . . . even so, that was almost ten years ago. Grateful as she was, that did not give Harry a free pass to go and do whatever the hell he wanted.

"You two were both so young then, but if you ask me –" Arthur looked around the room and then leaned in conspiratorially " – I think it was after that when your mother started trying to marry you and Harry off." His expression here was unreadable. Ginny's anger was almost entirely gone- replaced by concern over the sadness in her father's tone and expression.

"You know I wondered why she suddenly became so willing to listen to my immature prattle about Harry," she replied, simply to break the silence.

"Quite."

"But dad, I don't get what you're trying to get at. What does what Harry did at twelve have to do with the moronic way he's been acting at twenty-one?"

Arthur sighed and took her hand in both of his. "I think that sometimes we need to be reminded of the good things, no? We can tend to focus on the negative."

"But –"

"For example, I can choose to keep thinking of you as that little six year old who came to me crying when Fred . . . or George – whichever – transfigured your teddy bear into a spider -"

" That was Ron."

"Oh. Well . . . the point is – you're not my little girl anymore. I could refuse to acknowledge that you are an adult. I could continue to think that no man would ever be good enough for you. Instead, I choose to believe that if you have to be with someone, at least it is someone that is decent and makes you happy. Harry makes you happy, doesn't he?"

"I used to think so." Ginny didn't look at her father as she spoke. She kept her gaze trained on the table. "But then again I used to think I could trust him, too. Now . . . I don't know."

"Do you really think – deep down – that Harry has given you reason to doubt him? Is it not more likely that you are just frustrated at the way most people react to you?" When Ginny changed a glance at her father she saw that he had an eyebrow raised awaiting an answer to his question. She sighed heavily knowing he was at least partly right, though she really didn't want to admit it.

"Harry's a decent man, Ginny. I think you need to stop being so hard on him. He doesn't have control over what's written about the two of you." Arthur stood up as he spoke.

"I know," Ginny said softly. "But he doesn't exactly discourage it either by not arguing anything. Its hard to just sit back and know people are thinking those things . . . "

"Relationships are hard, no matter who you are. I cannot pretend to understand the added stress the two of you have to endure. All I think you need to worry about is whether you still love each other. Do you think Harry still loves you?"

"I think so," Ginny said slowly. She'd never really given this question any thought. She'd been so quick to jump on Percy's words, without really considering what it would mean if they were true.

"Are you willing to give that up?"

Ginny turned over her father's question. The answer, she realized quickly, was no. "But if Percy is right –" she thought out loud.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley," Arthur sighed in an exhausted sort of way. "What have I told you about listening to Percy? We all know that he's never regained his sense when it comes to Harry."

Yes she did know that. For several years, ever since he'd reconciled with the family shortly after Voldemort's death, Percy had spent his time telling them that Harry was dangerous. His reasons for continuing to uphold the views of Umbridge and Fudge were as mysterious as the idea that Harry could be dangerous.

"I don't think you should worry about what your brother has to say. Just worry about whether you and Harry still care for each other. If you do, then don't worry about all those outside influences."

"That's easier said than done," Ginny replied, but she was nodding her head in agreement.

"After everything you two have been through this should be a walk in the park." After giving Ginny a kiss on the forehead, Arthur headed up to bed, leaving her alone to think.

Much as Ginny hated to admit it, her father had a point. She and Harry had been through far worse than this, why was it upsetting her so? She didn't really believe that Harry was being unfaithful to her, yet . . . Ginny couldn't quite put her finger on why she was so touchy lately. It couldn't really be that she was mad at him because the Prophet considered her little more than his 'adornment', could it? She wasn't _that girl_.

She sighed and slowly made her way to bed. Perhaps a good night's sleep and some contemplation of her father's words would lead her to a miraculous understanding of her own behaviour.

They tried to make their way through the milling crowds as quickly as they could but everyone was trying to get into the stadium with the same rapidity so things were slow going. Harry, in particular, was quite keen to get out of the crowd. The last thing he wanted was to have someone recognize him. That always led to problems. Despite Ginny seeming like she was in a much better mood than she'd been lately, Harry didn't think it would be wise to be late again.

Finally Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dudley were able to push their way through the crowd and they made it to the changing room where they met Jordana Makarios.

"Ah, Potter, there you are. Weasley, Granger." She nodded in Ron's direction and gave Dudley a once over. "I don't believe we've met."

"No. This is my cousin, Dudley." Harry introduced Jordana. "This is his first Quidditch game."

"You're joking?" she asked in a loud and disbelieving voice. "With your seeking skills and Weasley's talent as a Chaser . . . " She shook her head before addressing Dudley. "You poor deprived man. Here let me tell you a few things so you'll better appreciate tonight's game." She motioned for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dudley to follow her into the changing rooms. There she introduced Dudley to the other players on the team all clad in their dark green robes with the signature gold talon emblazoned on the front.

Ginny came over, gave Ron and Hermione quick hugs, and she kissed Harry. She slid her arm around his waist and he put his around her shoulder then they turned to watch her teammate's reactions to Dudley.

When Jordana passed on the information that Dudley had never seen a game of Quidditch before they all had similar reactions of shock and pity. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione watched this scene for a few minutes. Dudley was listening raptly to everything that the seven women were telling him. For once he was paying attention.

"He seems to be enjoying himself," Ginny said after a few minutes had passed.

"Yeah, he does," Harry admitted, turning to stare down at her. "I'm glad you suggested bringing him. If he's that interested in talking about Quidditch, he's going to go mad when he actually sees you play. What was it you guys won by last year when you played Wimbourne?"

"Two hundred points," Ginny said.

"Wasn't it more like two-sixty?" Ron piped up immediately, a large grin spreading across his face. "That was fun to watch that was. Deflated Mr. 'I only need one name' Laslowe's head a bit, letting in all those easy goals. And d'you remember Flint's –"

"He did no such thing," said Gwenog in a scandalized voice. "We were just that good." She'd come over to the group, closely followed by Dudley, who was swallowing a little too often as he watched her walk. Harry looked at Ginny to see if she had also noticed this, but she was adjusting her robes and hadn't been watching.

"Hermione," Gwenog said with her usual pretentious air. She and Hermione had never got on well, not since the first time they had met at Horace Slughorn's Christmas party. "Weasley." She greeted Ron with a smirk on her face.

"Jones," Ron replied back just as smugly. "What d'you reckon your chances are against the Cannons this year? Now Lexington's left the team they've –"

"Ha – Lexington was the best Chaser they ever had," she responded. "The Cannons have got no chance. If they do better than their pitiful 3-15 this year that will be a miracle."

"I think they'll make it all the way to the semi-finals this year," Ron said. Harry and Ginny stared at each other. Harry knew Ginny was thinking the same thing he was. This conversation had to be taking its usual turn. No one in their right mind could honestly believe the Chudley Cannons would ever make it to a finals game in this lifetime.

Gwenog opened her mouth to retort but Hermione spoke up, her tone icy.

"Exciting as that prospect is, we really should get to our seats. If we don't we're going to miss the start of _your sister's_ game."

This was Hermione's warning that she'd had all she could take of Gwenog Jones. Ron glanced from her to the Quidditch captain and nodded his head.

"Good luck," he mumbled to her and Ginny before following Hermione out the door.

Gwenog followed slightly behind them with Dudley and they stopped by the exit, talking quietly.

"Knock 'em dead," Harry said, leaning down and giving Ginny a kiss.

"Oh we will," she responded with that famous evil Weasley grin on her face. "See you after the game. The Leaky Cauldron, right?"

Harry nodded, waved to the rest of the team, collected Dudley and they started to walk to their seats.

"That Gwendolyn, she's a looker," Dudley said when they were out of earshot.

"Gwenog."

"Whatever."

The game was so near to starting that most of the crowd had gone to their seats making it easier for Harry and Dudley to navigate through the crowds. Dudley wasn't quite as successful at skirting around people as Harry had become which resulted in them being stopped a few times by late arrivals to the match. The last time it was by two girls who could have been around Ginny's age. They were rather giggly and got on Harry's nerves within two seconds of meeting them – most particularly because he could hear the opening sounds of the match.

"We've really got to go," he said finally and pushed his way between them. He was about halfway down the stairs to their seats in the family section when he realized Dudley was not with him. Turning back, Harry saw his cousin was still back with those two girls.

"Ugh," he said in disgust and frustration as he turned around. He marched back up the stairs, pushed his way between the two girls again, who giggled and fluttered their eyelashes at him. Harry ignored this, instead grabbing Dudley's arm and pulling him down the stairs.

"What was all that about?" Dudley asked in an irritated tone.

"We're here to watch a Quidditch match, not pick up girls," Harry replied as they entered their row and made their way to sit beside Hermione, Ron and his parents.

"Who says we can't do both?"

"Me."

Dudley fixed him with a sulky look. "Where is it down in the rulebook that you can't mix sports with some 'other' fun, eh?" He asked this in an undertone so Arthur and Molly could not hear it.

This was a conversation that Harry really did not want to have with Dudley. The less he knew about his cousin's sexual activities the better. Therefore he tried another tactic in the hopes of getting off this topic as soon as humanly possible.

"Nothing. Look . . . you don't want those girls anyway. They probably wouldn't have given you a second glance if I wasn't there."

"So what?" Dudley said. "I don't want to marry them. I want to f-"

"I don't care." Harry stuck up his hand quickly, cutting off his cousin's statement. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Dudley watching him. He kept his gaze fixed on the pitch where the announcer was going through his usual long-winded speech about Quidditch sponsorship.

"I guess you wouldn't care about a bloke's needs though, seeing as yours are being so adequately filled," Dudley said after a minute.

"He'd better not be referring to what I think he is," Ron said angrily, leaning across Hermione and looking daggers at Dudley. Harry didn't answer because he was too busy punching Dudley hard in the arm.

Dudley massaged the spot where Harry had hit him, but he didn't comment. He'd been distracted by the appearance of fifteen brooms. Harry turned his attention to the pitch as well and easily spotted Ginny – the only red head among a mass of blonde and brunette. She had her broom in hand and was waiting for the whistle like her teammates. At the appearance of the two Quidditch teams the crowd had started to whoop and cheer. Harry joined in, but felt a longing to be on that pitch with the other players as they made ready to begin the game.

A nudge in his right side caused Harry to turn his head slowly to face Hermione.

"What?"

"Give these to Dudley," Ron said holding out his old battered pair of omnioculars. He sounded as though he was regretting offering them though. Harry took them from Ron and quickly examined the pair. He'd long ago lost his. It was hardly surprising given the rapid escape he'd made from Privet Drive, and the less than stable state in which he'd left Grimmauld Place after the last meeting with Voldemort. Holding this pair made him recall the Quidditch world cup – seven years ago.

Giving his head a shake, Harry handed the omnioculars to Dudley, explaining and quickly demonstrating how to use the various dials.

"Cool." Dudley pressed the omnioculars to his eyes and began to fiddle with the dials as the players and referee took to the air for a quick fly around the pitch before the match began. As they did this the announcer called out the name of each player.

"On the Holyhead Harpies please welcome Jones, Weasley, King, Dylan, Howard, Abdullah, and Keddle." The crowd of green and gold supporters screamed their glee. "And playing for the Wasps there's Flint, Smythe, Barrie, Laslowe, Darlington, Hooper and Wentworth." The Wasps supporters cheered loudly as the fourteen players took their positions and the referee released the four balls.

"And they're off," cried the announcer. Harry forgot about Dudley almost at once as he felt himself get sucked into the game. He watched the six Chasers swooping around in the air, throwing the Quaffle to each other with such speed that it was a mere blur.

"And that's Jones off up the pitch with Quaffle in had. Looking good –" the announcer said as Gwenog got closer to the Wasps goal. Laslowe was hovering, ready to block. At first Harry thought that he'd intimidated her from trying to score because she simply flew over the goal hoops, but next second Ginny had appeared out of nowhere, flying below the Keeper. She caught the Quaffle as it was thrown at her and before the Keeper had registered and reacted she'd scored.

"Yeah," Ron and Harry both shouted loudly.

"Excellent first goal for the Harpies," the announcer said cheerfully. "Perfectly executed Porskoff Ploy by Jones and Weasley." He had to shout to be heard over the cheers from the green and gold clad fans.

"Yeah. And that's how you do that," Ron said loudly, obviously proud that his sister had scored the first goal of the season, and in such a spectacular way.

"Nice early goal for the Chasers thanks to captain Jones and Weasley – who just gave us a taste of why she got such a juicy contract." This statement was accompanied by more cheers from the Harpies supporters.

"What's that?" Dudley asked, lowering the omnioculars and pointing at something in the distance. Harry looked there too and spotted a glint of gold. No – it couldn't be – not this early in the game. He took the omnioculars from Dudley and zoomed in. Sure enough, the snitch was hovering at ground level right under the Harpies goal. Neither Seeker had seen it.

"The snitch," he called, pointing. "Its just sitting there. C'mon Keddle." But she didn't so much as turn in that direction. After an agonizing thirty seconds the little golden ball disappeared. Harry sat back in his seat, feeling frustrated. He could have caught that in about two seconds. What had Keddle been thinking hovering over on the other side of the pitch? Thankfully Wentworth hadn't seen it either.

"She must be off her game tonight," Ron said turning his attention to the furious battle going on above. None of the Chasers on either team seemed able to keep the Quaffle in their possession for more than a few seconds.

"Flint . . . Jones . . . Smythe . . . King . . . Barrie . . . Weasley . . . " the announcer called out their names as the Quaffle sped out of each player's hands.

Things went on in this vein for five furious minutes, until Keddle and her counterpart Wentworth both spotted the snitch and dove right through all six Chasers for it. At the same time Abdullah and Hooper, a beater from each team aimed the two Bludgers at each Seeker, causing them to swerve out of the way. The snitch veered off to the left, much more in Keddle's favour.

"Go, go, go," Harry shouted excitedly, seeing her inching ever closer to that tiny golden ball. If she could catch it now the Harpies would win 160-0. Unfortunately just at that time Hooper hit another Bludger at her. Keddle swerved ever so slightly, putting herself just out of reach of the snitch. She'd probably been close enough to feel the fluttering wings. In the split second she'd lost by swerving the snitch disappeared.

The Harpies supporters all groaned.

"What'd she do that for?" Harry asked furiously. "She'd have ended the game." He shook his head as he watched Wentworth crash into Keddle and then they both slammed hard into the ground.

"Oh that had to hurt," Dudley said, lowering the omnioculars again as two mediwizards were dispatched to attend to the dazed looking Seekers.

"That was nothing," Harry said in an off-hand way. "She's lucky that Bludger didn't hit her in the back of the head. Its no picnic having a cracked skull, I can tell you."

"You've had? What – you used to play Quidditch?" Dudley asked suspiciously.

"Yeah. I played Seeker, same as her."

"Yeah right."

"He did. And he was really good," Hermione said, smiling broadly, leaning across Harry. "He only ever lost two matches, you know. And –" she winked at Harry here. "- he was the youngest Seeker in a century."

Dudley still looked like he didn't want to believe what he was being told. Harry, feeling a little embarrassed by Hermione's praise, nodded when Dudley looked at him for confirmation.

"If he hadn't decided to become an Auror I'm sure he would have joined the pros, just like Ginny."

"The game's started again," Harry said, anxious to turn the talk away from himself. Dudley spared Harry one last sideways glance before he once again buried himself behind the omnioculars.

The Harpies Chasers had apparently been taking the time out to talk tactics, for when play resumed they had the Quaffle and immediately went into the Hawkeshead attack formation. This succeeded and Ginny was able to streak past Laslowe again and score the second goal of the game.

Flint, in particular, seemed annoyed at this and called his own time out. When play resumed the Wasps Chasers began to become more vicious. Three times they nearly knocked the Harpies Chasers out of the air succeeding in nothing but getting the Harpies some penalty shots – all of which were put away easily, bringing the lead to 50-0.

It was thanks to a couple of excellent plays by Darlington and Hooper, the Wasps beaters, that the score evened out at 50-50 after an hour of play. It was easy to see that all fourteen players were getting tired, and it was starting to get dark. Keddle needed to get the snitch, and soon.

Harry no sooner had this thought then he saw the two Seekers make the sixth dive of the game.

"I don't think either of them is feinting this time," he called loudly, standing up in his chair. He didn't need Dudley's shout of 'there's the snitch' to know he was right. He'd seen the streak of gold as it raced from around the top of the Wasps goal towards the ground.

"Come on, come on, come on," he chanted, keeping his fingers crossed and his eyes focused on the snitch which was now speeding along a foot above the pitch, Keddle and Wentworth just metres from it.

What happened next caused the game to end in total confusion.

Wentworth, having a slight weight advantage over Keddle, rammed into her as he stretched out his hand to grab the snitch. Keddle, who also had her arm outstretched in anticipation of catching the tiny golden ball, lurched forward on her broom as she was thrust sideways. Wentworth's hand closed over the sleeve of her robes instead and the two were forced to roll over, causing them both to fall off their brooms and land on the ground, owing to their close proximity to the pitch.

Keddle shook Wentworth off as she got to her feet. She reached into her sleeve, pulled out the snitch, and held it up.

"Well . . . I'll be damned. That's a new use of the Plumpton pass," the announcer said. "Using another player's offense to her advantage. This is an interesting twist to the game. Will Seeker Keddle's scoop count as Wentworth was the one to physically grab the snitch? Seeker Wentworth seems to be contesting Keddle's capture. What is the referee's call?"

"He'd better allow that," Harry said. "That may not have been textbook, but that was definitely a Plumpton pass."

As they waited for the referee to make his decision, Harry checked the scoreboard. In the time they'd been watching the drama with the Seekers, the Harpies Chasers had managed another three goals. The scoreboard read 80-50 – but quite suddenly it changed to 230-50.

"Yes, it was a good catch. The referee rules that it was in her sleeve and therefore the Wasps Seeker touching it does not count. The Holyhead Harpies have an outstanding victory over the Wimbourne Wasps," the announcer called.

Harry looked up and saw the seven green clad players taking a victory lap around the stadium. He took the omnioculars back from Dudley again and focused them on Ginny. She was glistening with sweat and clutching her right arm to her, but she was smiling broadly. He couldn't help smiling himself as he pressed the replay button and saw that she had scored two of the last three goals. He winced as he saw a bludger connect with her wrist on that last throw. He'd had his arm broken by a bludger before too. It was no laughing matter. Thankfully mending bones was a much simpler procedure than regrowing them.

"You do think she's all right?" Molly asked nervously as the six of them stood up and began making their way out of the stands.

"Oh, sure, Molly. Bones can be mended in a minute," Harry said, confidently.

Molly didn't seem convinced. She muttered all the way up the stairs about dangerous sports. It was only as they reached the exit from the stadium that Molly broke off her string of worries and turned to Hermione.

"Fleur left those samples, are you still up for it tonight?"

"Of course." Hermione sounded excited. "I've been waiting forever for those. Flowers," she said simply to Ron when he looked lost. "You're welcome to come too."

"I would, but – well, I told Ginny we'd meet her at the Leaky Caldron. We can't both of us not show up, can we?"

Hermione eyed him shrewdly for a minute. Then she smiled. "Ronald, you can't skive off everything to do with this wedding, you know." She stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. "I'll see you at home." A second later she, Arthur and Molly had twisted on the spot and Disapparated.

"Where'd they go?" Dudley asked in alarm.

"To the Burrow," Ron replied, looking confused at Dudley's reaction. Harry felt rather shocked. How was it that after four years in the magical world, Dudley had never seen anyone Disapparate?

"No. I mean – they were just here and now they're not."

"They Disapparated. Witches and wizards can travel by disappearing and reappearing in another place just by thinking about it," Harry said. He looked at the lines forming in front of the three fireplaces. "And that's exactly what we're going to have to do if we want to get out of here today. Dudley, take my arm."

"Wha – no way! I'm not going to let you disintegrate me." He said this in such a loud voice that passersby turned to stare. When they saw Harry many of them did the familiar flick up to where his scar resided, now faded but still slightly visible.

"Its fine." Not willing to wait for Dudley any longer, Harry grabbed his cousin's arm and twisted into compression and darkness.

Next second air came flooding back into his lungs. They were in the small lane that stood between The Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley. It was nearly pitch dark so Harry lit his wand. Dudley was leaning against the pub wall and clutching at his chest. His eyes were bulging.

A popping sound announced Ron's arrival.

"Never . . . again," Dudley gasped. "That was the most horrible –"

"You're fine; its just shock. Most people don't like the sensation the first time. Let's just go in and get a table." Harry led the way into the pub.

The bar was packed, as was usual after a Quidditch match. It took a little time, but finally Harry, Ron and Dudley found a table. They had barely sat down when a waitress sidled over to them.

"What can I get you, loves?" she asked in a bored voice, not looking at them, and blowing a bubble with the gum she was chewing.

"I'll have a Firewhiskey," Ron said, watching the girl write down his order.

"I'll have the same," Dudley agreed, also watching her.

"So that's two Firewhiskeys, anything for you love?" she asked, looking at Harry for the first time. With that same familiar flick to his scar she stopped snapping her gum and stared with her mouth open.

"I'll have a Butterbeer, thanks," Harry said, looking away from her. She was pretty enough with her long blonde hair, blue eyes, and curvy figure, but her relentless gum snapping was annoying him.

"Sure thing. I'll be right back," she said, no trace of boredom in her voice now. She winked at Harry suggestively before she walked away. Harry could do nothing but roll his eyes. The seductive way she swung her hips did nothing for him either. He knew her type all-too-well. If he wasn't "Harry Potter!" she wouldn't care two bits about him – just like those two girls back at the Quidditch game.

Both Dudley and Ron turned to watch the witch walk back to the bar where Tom, the toothless owner of The Leaky Cauldron, was busy filling orders and chatting with customers.

"There's another one I wouldn't mind some alone time with," Dudley said, watching her lasciviously. "She's got some moves, that one." He turned back to look at Harry with a dumbfounded expression. "I think that was meant for you! And you're not going for it?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"She annoys me. And anyway, I already have a girlfriend –"

"- Who just happens to be my sister," Ron said, trying to sound fierce, but he was still watching their waitress as she came back. "Although I do have to admit myself that this one's definitely –"

"Hermione," Harry called, holding up his hand as though waving to someone right behind Ron, who had gone ashen. Harry lowered his hand, smiling evilly. "Gotcha," he said.

Ron turned round in his seat and glanced around the whole pub before he turned to face Harry, still off-colour.

"Bloody hell, Harry. That _was not_ funny." He remained quiet for a few seconds. Then, leaning in, he said softly, "don't tell her, will you?"

The concern in his voice made both Harry and Dudley laugh. Ron even joined in after a few minutes.

"So how long is Ginny supposed to be?" Dudley asked a few minutes later after their drinks arrived. He'd taken a sip of his Firewhiskey a moment before and his eyes were still watering.

"About an hour, I expect," Harry said. He had to remind himself it was a perfectly innocent question. Even though Dudley had been on his best behaviour over the last weeks when it came to Ginny, his previous behaviour still kept Harry on his toes. While Ginny was more than capable of handling herself with the likes of Dudley, he'd rather not allow a situation to develop where she'd need to do anything. "She has to get that wrist fixed up and then they have their usual post-match press conference. It shouldn't be too much longer before she gets here."

They spent a few minutes getting into an animated discussion on the match. Harry was just discoursing on the faults he'd seen in Keddle's performance when he heard someone speak his name. Turning around he saw the last two people he'd expected to see: Briony and Tougas.

"Hi," he said. "What are you doing here?" He shot a nervous glance over at Ron, who hadn't taken the news about Briony very well at all. Unsure of whether it was wise or not, he made introductions. Briony shook hands all around, but Tougas kept his arms folded across his chest, giving Ron and Dudley a curt nod and ignoring Harry all together.

"So what did you think of the match today?" Briony asked shooting Tougas a warning look.

"You were there?" Ron asked, watching her intently.

"Yes," she answered shyly, blushing at his penetrating gaze.

"We were just talking about it. Why don't you two join us?" Ron ignored the furious glare Harry was fixing him with. He didn't stop watching Briony. This had to do with the discussion he and Harry had the other evening, Harry was sure of it.

Tougas looked as impressed as Harry felt as he and Briony sat down. She, however, seemed perfectly comfortable as she smiled at Harry and Ron. It was only as she looked at Dudley that her smile faltered a little, and it was hardly surprising why.

Dudley was watching her closely with a frown on his face. He seemed disappointed that it had not been the waitress that had joined them. Rolling his eyes again, he elbowed his cousin in the side and gave him a warning look. He at least had the sense to look down. Harry gave Briony an apologetic smile which she returned.

"So, what did you two think of the game?" Ron asked, keeping tabs on the exchange between Harry and Briony.

"Oh, I enjoyed it. I haven't been to a game since Hogwarts," Briony said. "And I've never been to a professional game. They're rather good, aren't they? Especially Ginny."

Ron continued to watch Briony for another minute. Harry was sure he was checking to see if her compliment had been sincere. He must have decided that she was telling the truth because his face broke into a wide grin.

"Yeah. I think that was probably her best performance to date."

"You weren't kidding when you said she was good, Harry," Briony commented. Tougas snorted. When they all turned to look at him he shook his head and went back to staring at them insolently.

"They were smart to sign her," Ron nodded, warming up to Briony with all the praise she was lavishing on his sister.

Tougas snorted again.

"You disagree?" Ron asked, now fixing Tougas with his disapproving stare.

"Ignore him. Bredan's just upset that his Quidditch team lost," Briony said, earning her own annoyed look from Tougas.

"You support the Wasps?" Ron asked, adding this to his list of reasons for disliking Tougas. He started to grin. "They've become almost as bad as the Cannons."

Tougas leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

"My support is based on their performance, not on my relationship with the team members. It's a hell of a lot easier to support someone you're related to or sleeping with."

"Bredan," Briony said sharply, turning to glare at him. Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Ron's eyes were narrowed and he seemed to be itching to grab his wand. Harry couldn't blame him at all. Tougas could push even the most patient person's buttons.

"I think that we should go." Briony stood up and motioned for Tougas to follow her, which he seemed all-too-ready to do. As they started to say their goodbyes the door of the pub opened and a large cheer went up from a group of green clad people at a nearby table. Harry turned to see Ginny smile and wave at them as she scanned the pub for himself, Ron and Dudley. When she spotted them she quickly made her way over. It was only as she covered the last few feet that she noticed Tougas and Briony.

"Hello?" she said, smiling at them uncertainly.

It was only as Ginny laid eyes on Briony that Harry realized there could be a problem. She'd never met Briony, and after her reaction a few days back he could not guess how she would handle this meeting. It was only very reluctantly that he made the introductions.

"Its nice to meet you," Briony said, taking Ginny's proffered hand. "C- can I just tell you that I think Harry underestimated how good you are at Quidditch."

"Thank you." Ginny looked from her to Harry as though she wanted to be angry, but was holding back for the moment. She glanced at Ron who ever so slightly shook his head. After receiving this confirmation she turned back to Briony, still smiling a little too heartily. "I can't say I've heard quite so much about you, but I've heard rather a lot about _you_. Tougas, right?" she asked, shaking his hand.

"Yeah," he said, letting go quickly. He rapidly turned to look at Briony. "We were leaving?"

"Yes. See you at work, Harry."

"Yeah." Harry was watching Ginny as she followed Tougas and Briony's paths out the door.

"That was a little unexpected. You didn't tell me they were going to be here," she said as the door closed on them.

"I had no idea. Honestly," Harry said.

"It doesn't matter. She seems all right. Not at all like I pictured her." She leaned up and kissed Harry deeply, earning some whooping and cheering from the Harpies supporters. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Hey," Ron called. "I am still here, you know."

"So go home," Ginny said, not looking at him. "I'm sure Hermione's waiting for you." She didn't wait for Ron to respond. She grabbed Harry's hand and led him out of the pub, with Dudley following them. "Grab my shoulder," she told Dudley. He did so reluctantly with a nervous glance at Harry. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face as she twisted. Before three seconds passed they were back in the alley by Harry's flat.

As all three of them approached the door to the flat, Harry pointed his wand at it and with a click it swung open. He ushered Dudley in first and followed behind Ginny.

The minute the door closed she turned around and kissed him again, fisting her hands in his hair and pressing against him. Pleasant as this was, Harry pulled away.

"Gin, Dudley's here," he said, a little breathlessly. He looked around to se if his cousin was watching. Dudley, however, could be heard in the kitchen on the other side of the wall.

"Who cares," she replied, continuing to kiss him. She pushed Harry backwards around the wall, past the kitchen, and into the bedroom where she kicked the door closed. After some hastily muttered spells she let her wand fall to the floor and she resumed kissing him.

Shocked though he was at her sudden passion, Harry was kissing her back with abandon, pressing her against the door. They stopped kissing only long enough for her to pull his t-shirt over his head and then push him back onto the bed, climbing on as well and hovering over him, her long hair acting as curtains around their faces. He could see her desire for him in the shade of brown her eyes had darkened to.

Harry reached up and lightly brushed his fingers over her lips before moving them down her chin, her neck and eventually to the buttons on her shirt, which he started undoing slowly.

"That was a hell of a game," he said casually, watching her close her eyes as she tried to keep her breathing under control. She wasn't having much success though, he could feel her heart rate starting to increase as he peeled away her blouse. "Those last two goals in particular –"

"Oh God, Harry, shut up," she said breathlessly and she bent down and started kissing him again.

Some time later they lay together, quietly, letting their heart rates return to normal.

"its been too long since we've done that," Ginny said, adjusting her head on Harry's shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, keeping his eyes closed as he absent-mindedly stroked her hair.

They lay there like that for another minute before Ginny spoke again.

"You know I love you, right?" She pulled away from him and propped herself up on her elbow. Harry opened his eyes and saw her staring down at him intently.

"Of course," he said. "Why are you –"

"Good. Because I know I've been a bit of a bitch lately, and – I want you to know that it has nothing to do with you." She started running her fingers through his hair.

"OK," Harry said slowly. "If there's something bothering you though – I want you to talk to me, OK?"

Ginny breathed out and lay back down.

"I will," she said, carelessly running a finger over Harry's bare chest. "But I don't think I'll need to now I've got my head on straight again. I can't believe after everything else – you know – Voldemort – and all that, I let stupid Rita Skeeter mess me up. I can't believe I almost screwed things up between us. I guess we have my dad to thank for making me see reason."

"Yeah. Maybe when we're thanking him, we'll leave this part out though, eh?"

Ginny laughed. She snuggled closer to Harry, kissed him softly on the shoulder and said goodnight.

Wrapping his arm around her a little tigher than he would usually have done, Harry said goodnight too, but it was a long time after she fell asleep that he followed suit. Her causal mention of Voldemort had made his blood run cold. Recalling the road they had both take to get here made Harry feel that much worse about all the time they had spend fighting lately. If anything ever happened to cause Ginny harm . . .

It took a lot of time for him to remember that Voldemort was dead, Ginny wasn't in any danger anymore.

Sighing, Harry removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. Then he leaned over and kissed Ginny's forehead lightly.

"I love you, too," he said, before allowing himself to get some sleep.


	7. Family Outings

Whatever Arthur said to Ginny had really hit home with her. Over the next couple of weeks she returned to her usual self. She even kept her temper in check with Harry when he vented his spleen about Dudley's behaviour and his regret about the decision to let his cousin stay on in the flat rather than moving to Grimmauld Place.

"Maybe he's bored," Ginny said.

"He wouldn't be if he got a job or something," Harry replied, supervising the washing of their supper dishes while Ginny put away the last of the leftovers.

"You're right. But – now don't get me wrong here, he's been a lot better lately – but I don't think he's good at much."

"I agree," Harry said turning to face Ginny. He debated about voicing his next thought, but decided not to do so. Ginny had been very right about Dudley lately. Maybe she'd have some brilliant insight. "You know it troubles me that he's been a lot more decent than usual. I can't help thinking he's up to something."

"You're too suspicious." Ginny was smiling as she said this. "Maybe the two of you should do something together. You both seemed to enjoy the Quidditch match. And you got on well then."

Harry didn't like to tell her that he'd enjoyed himself because it was Quidditch, not because his cousin had been there. Dudley would have had to do something momentous to dampen his enjoyment of the sport. But Ginny was right about one thing: Dudley had enjoyed watching the game. He'd talked for days after about how he wished he could fly.

As though she had performed legillimency on him, Ginny said, "You haven't been flying in ages. Why not take him out? I'm sure Ron and Hermione wouldn't mind having the two of you over for the day next weekend when I'm in training."

So it was that Harry and Dudley were to be found in Hogsmeade on a warm day in mid-March. Ron was on a day off from the joke shop and was going out with the cousins while Hermione remained inside, buried deep in work. They offered her to come with them but she, not surprisingly, refused.

Ron still had his old Cleansweep Seven, and Harry his firebolt. Neither of them was enthusiastic about the idea of letting a new flyer ride their brooms so Dudley was given one of the old Comet-one-ninetys that had been kicking around the Burrow since Arthur had graduated from Hogwarts.

Keen on not repeating the atrocity that had been Dudley's lessons in magic, Harry was quick to tell his cousin that he was to follow all of the instructions he was given, and he was to follow them to the letter. Dudley nodded.

"I mean it. If you try anything without us telling you to this lesson is over."

Dudley said nothing. He nodded enthusiastically and gave his battered broom a once over.

"Is it hard?" he asked as Harry and Ron stood either side of him, "learning to fly?"

"That depends on who you ask," Harry replied, scraping a bit of mud off the handle of his broom. "I never had a problem with it. If you were to talk to Hermione though she might have a different story."

Ron looked over his shoulder. The kitchen was still empty, Hermione having gone back to her latest report on the appalling treatment of werewolves. She was passionately working to repeal the ludicrous laws passed by Dolores Umbridge years before.

"She could use some fun," Ron said, frowning. "She works to damn hard sometimes. She's going to wear herself out."

Harry and Dudley could do nothing but watch Ron and shuffle their feet. It was rare for him to be this concerned about Hermione's hyperactive work ethic. It took a minute for him to turn his attention away from the front office where she was plugging away.

"You two didn't come here to stand around in my house. Let's go outside," Ron said finally, coming back to reality.

Harry lamented the time they had spent indoors the minute they stepped outside. The air was live with the smell of spring. There were few clouds to speak of, and the breeze was nearly nonexistent. The worst that could be said was that they might be impaired by the brightness of the sun. He noticed that the ground was still wet with melting snow as they took their places in the back garden; careful to avoid some of the more dangerous plats yet to be uprooted.

Harry and Ron automatically readied to mount their brooms. Dudley tried to imitate them but was getting it quite wrong. If he so much as tried to hover he'd be sure to slide right onto his back. Although this might be amusing, Harry decided not to let it go on. He corrected Dudley on his grip.

"You've got to keep a firm grim or you'll fall right off."

"Got it." Dudley nodded yet again. Like at the Quidditch game when he had been so attentive, it seemed to Harry like his cousin actually did understand him. He watched in amazement as Dudley did exactly what he was told – without question or argument. After so many years of having to put up with someone who would go out of their way to do the exact opposite of what they were asked, it was hardly surprising that Harry was momentarily speechless. He quickly collected himself and continued on to the next lesson. He showed Dudley how to kick off and land. This took a little time before Dudley was proficient enough to move on. Harry began to feel a little envious of Ron as he, growing bored after a while, shot off towards Hogwarts.

After a couple of hours though, Dudley was doing surprisingly well. He was flying well enough to keep up with Harry and Ron, although they weren't flying particularly fast. They were holding back a lot so Dudley could keep up.

After being cooped up inside for going on two months with the task force. It felt extremely good to be outside in the fresh spring air. Harry sped up to catch Ron and easily surpassed him, owing to his superior broom. He looped around him and then stopped about twenty feet away, grinning smugly. This was an invitation to competition that Ron took up immediately.

"You're on," he called and sped past Harry this time. They played this sort of leapfrog for some time. Dudley was never quite able to catch them up. He'd get within ten feet of them and then they would take off again. They weren't doing it on purpose - at least at first. After the third time this happened, Dudley called out, "will you two stay still for one minute?"

Harry and Ron exchanged mischievous glances and took off in opposite directions, meeting again three hundred yards away. They watched with amused smiles as Dudley, who had not yet mastered acceleration, petered over to them.

"Today, Dudley," Harry called faking a sound of impatience.

Quite suddenly the slow moving broom sped up like a bullet, and Harry and Ron had to swerve to avoid being speared on its end. Dudley flew past them and kept on going. He was up over the high street, heading down the lane that led from the village to Hogwarts. He seemed to have lost control of his broom.

"You showed him how to brake, right?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said slowly, recalling everything he and Dudley had gone over just a few hours ago. The lesson about braking was not among them. Employing an expletive or two, Harry sped off after his cousin. Even with his superior broom he didn't reach Dudley until he was already inside the Hogwarts grounds.

Harry wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that they had removed all the extra protection that had been around the school in the days of the war with Voldemort. If they hadn't, Dudley would have crashed into them and toppled to the ground. He could have sustained grievous injury. Instead he just flew on. They were very near the forbidden forest when Harry finally caught him and issued the instruction on how to brake. Dudley's face was a little ashen.

"Wish you'd told me that before," he said as they landed twenty feet from the forest.

"Yeah, sorry about that." Harry grinned, a little amused at Dudley's panic. But he quickly turned to stare up at the castle.

Harry hadn't been back to the school for more than three years. The last time had been just a year after Voldemort's death, to talk with Dumbledore's portrait. He had been hoping for answers about what had happened when he'd fallen the night he'd . . . The only person he knew who could give them was Dumbledore.

Thinking about that night Harry absent-mindedly touched his scar. It hadn't so much as prickled since the night Voldemort died. He couldn't say he was at all sad about that, nor was he sad about his inability to talk to snakes.

Dumbledore's portrait had given him some very cryptic answers the night Harry had gone to see him for the last time. He had told Harry that the green-tinged blood that had poured from Harry's scar had been his own blood mixed in with the dark lord's powers, which, because he was truly gone from the world now, were also gone.

Harry had breathed a sigh of relief at Dumbledore's words. Finally, he had thought, I can lead a normal and peaceful life. He had been about to leave the office when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort is gone for good. No spell can bring back the dead . . . but magic always leaves traces . . . particularly dark magic."

When Harry had asked Dumbledore why he was saying this, the portrait had snapped out of a seemingly wistful remembrance and spoke one last time.

"An old man's prerogative . . . we who have lived to a grand old age spend a great deal of time reflecting. It becomes habit after a while, I am afraid. Pay no mind to my ramblings, Harry."

But Harry had known Dumbledore far too long to simply let those words go. The man was a real and true genius. He did not speak at random without having some thought behind it. What was he worried about? He'd said himself that Voldemort was dead, and the dead were gone forever . . .

"Harry?"

A booming voice snapped him out of his reflective state and Harry turned to see Hagrid emerging from the forest. He was devoid of his crossbow, which meant his pact with the centaurs seemed to be holding.

"Wha're yeh doin' here, Harry?" Hagrid was smiling broadly, but it faltered somewhat as he spotted Dudley.

For his part Dudley, upon seeing Hagrid, situated himself behind Harry. Though he had lost a lot of his girth thanks to keeping up with his boxing, Harry was by no means an adequate shield.

"We're here because I forgot to show Dudley how to brake," Harry stated, stepping away from Dudley, who was trying to crouch behind him now. "Give it a rest."

"You were in Hogsmeade?" Hagrid's face fell.

Harry felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't even thought of stopping in to see Hagrid when they had made plans to come to Hogsmeade. He should have known that this would upset the half-giant.

"Yeah. Listen, Hagrid." Harry thought of telling a little fib to spare his friend's feelings but looking up at the obvious disappointment on his face, the truth came spilling out. "Yeah. Ginny thought that it might be something he'd like and since I haven't had much time for recreation . . . We should have worked in some time to come up and visit you."

Hagrid still looked sad but he was able to put on a half-smile.

"Yeh getin' anywhere with capturin' them scum?"

"No."

"Ah, well, tha's no good. Mad-Eye can't be pleased at all."

Harry shook his head. No, Moody was not pleased. None of the people on the task force were. They'd been at it for getting dangerously near five years and were really no closer to apprehending Malfoy or Lestrange than they had been for years. Moody's move of adding Harry to the task force had not produced the great results he had hoped for. Since he had joined the team the only new bit of investigation that was being pursued was of an unofficial nature. Briony and her idea about fear, and as far as Harry knew that hadn't panned out either. At least she hadn't mentioned anything further about it.

"Always did have a short fuse, Mad-Eye," Hagrid said. "Pushed 'im on. Helped him solve cases I s'pose. From what I hear tha' worked for yeh too, with Yaxley. Anyway, now yer here, got time for a cuppa?"

Harry checked his watch. It was nearing five o'clock. He had to get home. He had some work he was planning to do that night.

"I'd love to, but we really ought to get going." At the crestfallen look on Hagrid's face, he hastily added," But we'll do it really soon, I promise. The next time Ginny's got time off."

"All Righ'." Hagrid sighed, heaving his massive shoulders. "See yeh, Harry. Dudley." He turned and walked to his hut. Harry watched him at it for a bit, feeling that big ball of guilt settle like a boulder in his stomach. It really had been a while since he'd seen Hagrid. The stupid task force was taking up so much of his time that he'd been neglecting almost everything else in his life. He'd have to change that . . . somehow.

"You think you're going to remember how to take off, brake, and land?" he asked, a minute later, preparing to mount his firebolt.

Dudley's answer was to shoot up into the air like a cannon and sped off in the direction of the village.

"I take that as a yes."

Harry hastened to follow. Dudley was actually getting pretty good at flying. He swerved this way and that as they were once again flying over Hogsmeade. Harry had caught up quickly, but Dudley, obviously wanting to show off his newfound ability, tried to out do him. He sped up, swooped down to about ten feet off the ground, rocketed up a hundred feet, looped Harry and then stopped about ten feet away, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Not bad . . . for a beginner," Harry conceded, "but try this." He shot right at Dudley, swerving at the last second, went into a spectacular dive, which he pulled out of mere feet from the ground before rocketing up into a couple of quick loops. He sped past Dudley, so near he could have hit him in the back of the head if he'd so desired. Then he did a large loop over the High street, enjoying the breeze. There really was nothing better than flying. Well, there was one thing . . . but as Ginny wasn't here now . . .

Ron reappeared in the air, right in front of Harry who was not really paying attention and nearly crashed into him.

"I wondered where the two of you had gone off to," he said, floating beside Harry in mid-air. "I thought you'd come straight back after you got him away from the school."

"We would have done, but we ran into Hagrid," Harry said and explained about his meeting. When he was done, Ron was looking rather guilty, too.

Yeah, we haven't been up there either," he said, examining his broom handle. "He's been in the shop a few times, and I've said me and Hermione would go up . . . but with work, and having Dawlish tail us everywhere now . . . "

They lapsed into silence and watched Dudley in the distance doing some more loops. The sky to the east was turning the first shades of velvety-blue and it was becoming hard to see the solitary air born figure. They would have quite a time finding him if he happened to fall.

"I guess we should get in," Ron said. "Its my turn to make dinner. Are you two staying?"

"You're cooking?" Harry asked in alarm. He didn't think his taste buds could take it. Hell, even Dudley, who was about as fussy with food as Ron, would probably have a hard time keeping down Ron's cooking. Seeing Harry's less than enthusiastic reaction to his invitation, Ron frowned.

"Yes, I'm cooking. I've been doing a lot of it lately, seeing as how Hermione's been working so much. I've got loads better. Mum's been here showing me some stuff."

Harry was watching Ron with a bemused smile. Since when had Ron shown any enthusiasm for cooking? Eating, yes, but this was a whole new side of him. It was almost worth risking potential damage to his taste buds to see if Ron had picked up any of his mother's flare. Feeling that he'd be later regretting it, Harry told his best mate that, yes, they'd stay.

They both flew over to Dudley and told him it was time to land. Then, making sure he was following, Harry and Ron returned to the house.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, looking up at the tiny two-storey building with the domed roof. "But this place looks like a mushroom. I mean look, your soffit is a darker colour than the roof or the house."

"You know me," Ron replied, grinning, "always thinking of food. It's quite fitting then."

"Yeah." Harry returned the grin and then looked up. Dudley was flying right overhead and didn't seem at all intent on landing. "Dudley, get down here," he called, putting his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. Dudley did, but not in the way Harry meant. He turned round in mid-air and dive-bombed them, forcing Harry and Ron to split up, before taking off again, leaving his maniacal cackle on the air.

"I think he means for you to follow," Ron said, gazing at Dudley in shock.

"I don't think I'm going to this time."

Harry pulled out his wand, pointed it at Dudley and said, "accio broom." At once his cousin and the broom came flying through the air towards him. Dudley's face had gone white again and he was holding onto the broom for dear life. As they got nearer, Harry jumped out of the way as both broom and Dudley hit the wet ground with an almighty squelching noise.

The ground was soft, and the landing relatively slow so Dudley wasn't hurt. He was, however, covered head to toe in slimy mud. When he got to his feet and turned to face them, Harry and Ron burst out laughing.

"This isn't funny, you know," Dudley said, wiping mud from around his eyes. Once he could see where he was going, he began to advance on Harry, fists in the accepted boxing position.

"It is a little funny," Harry replied, watching Dudley approach without real concern. If Dudley tried anything he had his wand. But he noticed Dudley's piggy little eyes were not bulging as they would be if he was furious. They were crinkled into a mischievous expression, made all the funnier by the fact that they were still surrounded by mud. Harry decided to play along. He put his hands in his pockets and waited casually.

Dudley got within striking distance at last and punched Harry in the shoulder. Having been punched by his cousin many times before, Harry knew that Dudley hadn't used anywhere near all of his strength.

"I think you're losing your touch," he said. "Ginny punches harder than you." He ducked the next punch thrown at him, and the next. The fourth time he wasn't so lucky and was hit rather harder than he would have liked by Dudley's right hook. He stumbled back a few paces. When he regained his footing he was laughing. Ron looked at them both quizzically.

"Mental," he said, shaking his head. "When the two of you are done beating the snot out of each other, I'll be inside."

Harry stupidly turned to say something to his friend and was caught by another of Dudley's restrained punches. Never much of a fist fighter himself, he had a pretty good idea that he wouldn't be able to match his cousin in hand-to-hand combat. There was one area that he had the advantage in though.

Slowly backing away, Harry reached into his pocket and extracted his wand. When Dudley was next in striking distance and made his move an invisible wall blocked his fist from reaching Harry's face. Dudley looked shocked. He pulled his hand back and examined it as though it was the culprit. Finding nothing wrong with it, he tried again with the same effect. It was only as he examined his bruised knuckles that Dudley clued into what Harry had done.

"That's not fair," he said, dropping his hand to his side.

"Sure it is. You pressed your advantage and I pressed mine." Harry raised his wand and removed the shield charm. "Are you ready to go in now?"

When Dudley said that he was Harry used another summoning charm to collect both brooms. He also cleaned the mud off of both of them and then they returned to the house.

Immediately upon entering they were greeted with the delightful smell of Shepherd's Pie and rolls. Harry leaned the brooms against the wall by the back door, and turned into the kitchen, sure he would see Hermione standing there, but it was in fact Ron who was supervising the food preparation. There wasn't even a hint of smoke in the air.

"So it is true," he said, coming to stand by the counter, watching as knives worked on chopping vegetables for the salad. "You've gone domestic."

Ron snorted at the comment, but kept his focus on the knives. "You could make yourself useful by setting the table, you know," he said.

"Yeah, all right."

The table was set, the food ready, but still Hermione hadn't made an appearance.

"You sure she's OK in there?" Harry asked feeling concerned. Perhaps Ron was right to worry. The delicious smell of food had surely permeated the entire house. That should have coaxed her out of her office.

Suddenly recalling the warning about Hermione being in danger, Harry got a bad feeling. Maybe something had happened while they were out.

"I'm going to go check on her."

Harry was out of his seat and into the small sitting room before either Ron or Dudley could comment. He kept his fingers curled around his wand, but resisted the urge to pull it out as he approached her open office door. Nothing here seemed to be out of order, which was a good sign.

Harry's fears were allayed when he stepped into the small office. Hermione was slumped back in her chair, snoring lightly, a large book lying open on her chest. He smiled at the sight. It was so very like Hermione to work herself to the point of falling asleep in desk chairs. He was less impressed with the other person asleep in the room.

In a squashy armchair in the corner of the office Dawlish sat with his head drooping onto his chest. Several of the papers he had been reading had fallen to the floor.

It was to his fellow Auror and task force member that Harry spoke first. He was both sympathetic towards and annoyed at Dawlish. They had been keeping very long hours at work, and he then had Hermione to watch over. It was hardly surprising he'd nodded off. But on the other hand, Hermione wasn't very safe if she was being guarded by someone who fell asleep on the job.

"Dawlish." Harry shook him awake. It took a moment for the older man to open his eyes and regain his bearings. This, naturally, did nothing to bolster Harry's confidence.

"What? Did I fall asleep?" he aside, rubbing his neck to loosen the muscles.

"Yeah, you did."

"Damn." Dawlish looked over at Hermione, who hadn't so much as stirred. Harry thought he saw a look of envy on the man's face. This caused his anger to decrease.

"Listen, I know its been rough for you, taking over for Tonks. Tell you what. I'm here for at least another couple of hours. Why don't you go home and catch some sleep?"

"You're sure?" Dawlish rubbed his chin, clearly wanting to jump on the offer, but unsure of what could result from effectively abandoning his charge.

"Absolutely. You're in no state to be here right now anyway," Harry said. "I'll Floo you before I leave here and you can come back."

It didn't take much more convincing.

"Well . . . thanks Potter," he said before gathering his work up and leaving.

Harry walked over to Hermione and repeated the same action he'd just used to wake Dawlish, although a lot less harshly.

"Ten more minutes," she said sleepily, curling her arm around her book like it was a pillow.

"OK . . . if you want to miss dinner."

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

"Dinner?" she asked, looking up at Harry with sleep thick in the corners of her eyes. "How long did I sleep? What time is it? Harry?"

"Which question d'you want answered first?" he asked as she rubbed her eyes. "I don't know how long you've been asleep. Its nearly six, and yes, its me."

Hermione got up, put her book on the desk, stretched, and then looked around.

"Where's Dawlish?" she asked.

"I told him to go home for a while."

"You did?" Hermione came around the desk and gave Harry a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

She blushed a little as she pulled away. Harry laughed.

"Things going that well, are they?"

"Worse. I wish Tonks hadn't been assigned to desk duty. At least when she was here I had a laugh. I think Dawlish's face would crack if he ever tried to so much as smile."

This was too true to argue, so Harry just agreed. He followed Hermione out of the office.

"Listen. I have something even more important to ask you," he said as they passed through the sitting room. Hermione turned back with a worried look on her face, making Harry feel bad for his little joke, but he ploughed on anyway. "Ron cooked. D'you think its safe to eat?"

Breathing out, Hermione nodded. "He's actually got quite good," she said. "The first couple of weeks here Molly stopped by everyday. I think she wanted to teach me how to cook, but I was so busy with work that I didn't have time. Ron made my excuses for me. I think he felt bad for his mum. Its got to be hard for her to occupy her time now that all of the kids are gone." Hermione looked at the kitchen where they could hear Ron and Dudley talking. "So he let her show him a few things. I think he likes it though, cooking I mean. He'll say he doesn't if you ask, but last week when we were over the Burrow for dinner, I saw him thumbing through one of those cookbooks Molly's had for ages."

At this information Harry felt a wide grin spread across his face. This was just too funny. If someone had told him three or four years ago – scratch that – three or four moths ago that Ron would turn into the wizard equivalent of Martha Stewart he would have them checked for ingestion of essence of insanity.

"I know you're thinking about taking the mickey out of him, Harry, but don't you dare." Hermione shot him a stern look. "It's the twenty-first century now. We're supposed to be over this gender stereotyping rubbish. For heaven't sake, you have a girlfriend who's an international sports star. I thought you –"

"OK, OK, I get it," Harry held up his hand to stop Hermione's tirade. "I was just trying to have a little fun with him, that's all.

Hermione folded her arms in disapproval and turned away, walking out of the sitting room and into the kitchen.

"Blimey," Harry muttered under his breath before following her. First Ginny, now Hermione? Was he walking around with some sort of curse when it came to women or what?

Even having Dudley there did not dampen the enjoyment of their meal. Harry was glad to find he wasn't in any danger from Ron's cooking after all. Everything turned out to be quite good. In fact he thought that this particular meal had only be made better by Molly Weasley. He'd never tell Ron that though. Despite it being 'the twenty-first century' a bloke just didn't walk up to his best mate and say, "great meal. You really are a good cook." That sort of thing just wasn't done! He did have second helpings though, which he was sure would achieve the same ends.

During the meal talk turned to the Malfoy/Lestrange case.

"I do hope you catch them soon," Hermione said, a note of desperation in her voice. "I don't think I can stand Dawlish much longer."

"Sorry, but you're probably stuck with him for the foreseeable future," Harry said, feeling his sense of frustration starting to overtake the contentedness that a good meal and pleasant conversation had bestowed on him. "We haven't got any real information since I joined the task force."

"Did you ever find out if Percy was actually bluffing or not?" Ron asked, taking a sip of mead from his goblet.

"No." Harry twirled his own glass between his fingers. "Leaks like that aren't uncommon though. Or so I'm told. Mafalda Hopkirk is 'a reliable source who we are not going to bother based on the word of an employee with a questionable reputation.'" Even after a couple of weeks the words made him feel angry.

"Percy, you mean?" Ron asked quietly.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

Ron nodded and stared down at his plate, looking a little contemplative.

"What's that all about?" Dudley asked, looking from Harry to Hermione and to Ron after a moment in which no one spoke. None of them were really willing to answer, but Hermione finally spoke up.

"Percy's Ron's brother, just a few years older than the twins. You never met him because during that summer we were all saying at number twelve, Grimmauld Place Percy wasn't talking to his family. You see, he was really ambitious and got mixed up with Fudge and Umbrdige - " she stopped and looked at Dudley's confused face. She sighed in an exhausted way before picking up her story. " – who you don't know. I don't really feel like talking about them all night so here's the abridged version. Fudge, the Minister for Magic until we were sixteen, didn't believe Harry when he said Voldemort first came back so he sent this truly horrible woman, Umbridge, to Hogwarts where she spend a year making everyone, especially Harry, miserable. They thought that all of the horrible murders, disappearances and the mass breakout from Azkaban was all perpetrated by Sirius, Harry's godfather."

Another heavy silence fell at the table. Harry took a sip of his mead for something to do. It had really been years since he'd thought about all of that. It still made him want to break something, particularly when he clenched his hand and saw the white outline of those horrible five words he'd been forced to cut into his own skin: _I must not tell lies_.

"So . . . " Hermione said slowly as though testing to see if she should go on. "Those are the people Percy got mixed up with. He adopted a lot of their views, and there are still a few he has to shake. The idea that Harry's unbalanced because he killed Voldemort, for one." Hermione spoke softly and looked at Harry with regret in her eyes.

"Yeah, my idiot of a brother . . . After that night he stands up in the Ministry the day that Scrimgeour announced that Voldemort really was dead, and starts asking questions about how Harry did it. When he found out it was an AK . . . well, he started saying that maybe Harry should be arrested . . . or committed."

None of this was new to Harry, yet, like when thinking about Fudge and Umbridge, he could feel his tempter start to rise. He tightened his grip on his goblet so much that it shattered and he cut himself on one of the jagged pieces.

"Harry, are you, OK?" Hermione asked, immediately getting up and looking at his hand.

"Fine," he muttered, staring at his bleeding palm as though it belonged to someone else. It had been thanks to the likes of Percy that the Ministry had hassled him so much in those first few weeks after Voldemort's death. They had actually toyed with the idea of charging him, but when word gout out there was a huge uprising and they were forced to back down. That didn't mean they left him alone though. They first made him recount every painstaking detail of every encounter, physically or otherwise, he'd had with Voldemort over the entirety of his life. It had been an exhausting and almost unendurable four weeks in which every possible method to obtain memories were used: pensieves, legilimency (thankfully by someone he trusted a lot more than Snape), and others that he could not now recall. Harry knew that only two things got him through that ordeal. The first was his friends, and especially Ginny. The second was the thought that at least now the horrors were over. Thinking that now, he felt a little squeamish. Danger was once again on their doorstep.

"What have I told you about discussing that?" Hermione hissed as she poured a measure of blue liquid on Harry's hand. It smoked just a little and then she poked the cut with her wand and it healed over.

"Sorry," Ron said, sounding it. "But I just can't get over how stupid Percy was. Nearly got himself hexed to death with his comments."

Hermione ignored him. She had placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and was watching him very closely.

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He gave himself a little shake, saw properly the concern in his friend's eyes and gave her a weak smile. "Spending too much time ruminating isn't a good thing, I guess."

Both his friends kept shooting concerned glances at him the rest of the time Harry and Dudley were there. It got to be a bit wearying after a while and was glad when Dawlish returned, allowing him to leave.

Apparition was once again their mode of transportation; therefore the two cousins were standing in the flat quite soon after leaving Ron and Hermione's. Dudley, too, was behaving a bit out of the ordinary. He was watching Harry walk around the flat. Harry caught him at it a few times. When he did Dudley would quickly look away, scratching his head or chewing his bottom lip.

Dudley had disappeared for a time, to go get ready for the only thing he did with any regularity – pub-going. When he emerged he made a noise as if to get Harry's attention, but waved it away a second later. He paced for a few minutes, stopped, and opened his mouth with a finger raised, like he was going to make a point. He must have decided it was no good because he put his finger down, closed his mouth and put his hands in his pockets instead. He started jingling his keys, distracting Harry from his work yet again.

"What?" he demanded, throwing down his quill. Dudley looked up, trying to affect an innocent air, something he failed at completely. "And don't tell me its nothing because you've been trying to say something for the last hour. Just spit it out."

Harry expected Dudley to hesitate, to say that nothing was wrong. He expected to hear denials about the strange behaviour, but instead Dudley started speaking immediately. He seemed relieved that he hadn't had to start the conversation.

"I was just thinking . . . you seemed wound a little tight back there . . . at Ron and Hermione's. Not that I blame you. That Percy bloke seems like a real horse's ass."

"He can be all right, Percy. He's just got his priorities all wrong." Harry picked up his quill and turned away. He really didn't feel like talking about Percy right now.

"Whatever. That wasn't really what I was trying to say anyway. I was just thinking –" he looked like he was steeling himself to say something momentous. "All you ever do lately is work. Its got you wound so tight you're going to snap."

"I haven't got time for fun." Harry motioned to the papers littering his desk.

"Oh you can take a night off. You said yourself . . . earlier that there aren't any big leads on your case. Take a night off, have some fun for a change."

"What are you suggesting?" Harry looked around the flat. Maybe there was something good on television he could watch. Or he could . . . he didn't know what. It had been too long since he'd really had a night off to himself. Ginny was, of course, away with the team for a few days.

The shock that he was actually considering listening to Dudley hit Harry suddenly. What was he thinking? Dudley didn't know the first thing about work. The idea of time off was tempting though . . .

"Good. Go get ready," Dudley said, seeing Harry had decided to take his advice.

"Get ready for what?" Harry felt suspicious at once. What was Dudley planning? Knowing his track record it was likely to be something that he wasn't going to want a part of.

"I thought you agreed you were going to come out with me."

Harry continued to eye Dudley in shock for a few minutes and then he laughed. So this was the game. Dudley was having his own little laugh. "Yeah, right. That was funny I have to admit. You really had me for a second there."

Dudley didn't laugh. He shifted from foot to foot again. When he finally spoke it was in a soft voice. "I wasn't joking. But that's OK if you don't want to."

Harry sat there, wondering why he felt bad. This was Dudley after all. Sixteen years of absolutely loathing of the Dursleys and now he was feeling guilty? He really had no reason to feel guilty, did he?

As though she were standing right beside him, Harry could hear Ginny's exasperated sigh. It had been she who had said that putting in some effort with Dudley might pay off in the end. Could this be what she meant? Did Dudley maybe feel sympathy for what Harry had been through? Ginny would tell Harry he should take the opening that Dudley was offering. Unfortunately she'd been right so far and she'd have a few nasty words if she found out that he'd skived off going out with Dudley.

"All right, I'll go," he said.

"Don't do me any favours," Dudley replied coldly.

"I'm not. I think this might be . . . er . . . interesting."

Having changed into what he assumed was suitable Muggle attire, Harry quickly stopped at the mirror. He adjusted his glasses and made a casual sweep through his hair with a comb. It made no difference at all. He stood there for a minute, thinking. He'd seen and done some strange things in his life, but this seemed to be the icing on the cake – going out to a Muggle pub with Dudley Dursley.

Given that it had been Dudley who was going out, they went to the location that he wanted, a nightclub in the heart of Muggle London. As they walked the two blocks between their Apparition point and the building, Harry felt he was glad of this. He didn't feel much like dealing with people staring avidly at him, or the inevitable paparazzi that would surely arrive shortly after their appearance in any wizarding establishment. It would be a nice change to be out among the Muggles who knew him no more than they knew Dudley. He felt an overwhelming sense of freedom not to have to worry that his every move would be scrutinized.

Dudley was apparently well known at this club. The doorman greeted him like an old friend. At first Harry wondered why – but his answer was given right away when Dudley surreptitiously handed him a twenty pound note. He was quite the big tipper, it was no wonder he never had any money.

Walking through the crowds of people in the club, many of them waved to Dudley, making Harry turn back and stare at them as they passed. They greeted Dudley as though he were their best friend. The most surprising thing about this whole scenario was that Dudley seemed to take all the attention in his stride, casually waving it away.

"Exactly how often do you come here?" Harry asked, having to shout over the loud pounding of the music.

"What?" Dudley called back from across the table, making Harry repeat his question. "I dunno," he said, shrugging. "Pretty often I guess."

That had to be the biggest understatement of the millennium, Harry thought as person after person came by, clapping Dudley on the back, or giving him a quick smile and friendly kiss on the cheek. Harry knew he was staring open-mouthed, but he couldn't help it. The only other person he had seen treat Dudley in a similar way had been Aunt Petunia. What he remembered from their school days was that most people were frightened of, not friendly with, Dudley.

The music was so loud that it was near impossible to talk so Harry had a great deal of time to look around. Not that he'd spent so much time cavorting in his life, but he rather thought that, aside from the obvious lack of magic, there was really nothing distinguishably different from a few of the wizarding clubs he'd been at in the last few years.

The walls of this club were of an iridescent blue, but it was really hard to tell because almost every inch of them were being lit up with the overabundance of lights. The dance floor, a long, smooth, rectangular surface, was jam packed with people who were trying not to bump into each other as they attempted to dance. Now there's some people who probably feel like sardines, Harry thought.

"I'll get us some drinks," he said, standing up.

"Sit down," Dudley said, motioning for Harry to take his seat again. He was looking around at something.

Wondering what had caught Dudley's attention so thoroughly, Harry did look round. Two girls were making their way towards their table. They were pretty, that was clear. One had shortly cropped blonde hair and the other had hair almost as long as Ginny's, but it was a dark brown rather than her vivid red. They were both smiling widely. Turning back to face Dudley, Harry saw the same sort of smile mimicked on his cousin's face. Rolling his eyes he sat back down.

"Do you ever stop?" he asked, but not loud enough for Dudley to hear.

"Where were you last night?" the blonde girl asked in a pouty voice. She had slid into the seat next to Dudley and flung her arms around him. She planted a kiss on his cheek. At this Harry immediately looked away. _This was really too much._ "You said you'd be here for sure. We waited all night." Her voice was just as whiny as Dudley's had been in his youth, unfortunately allowing it to be heard over the music.

"I had something else come up," Dudley said loud enough for Harry to hear. The tone he said this in made Harry look up. Dudley was shooting a warning glance at him. It was a look asking that he not be contradicted.

There was really nothing that Harry could say. All he knew was that Dudley spent most evenings out of the flat. He could not have said with any degree of certainty where his cousin spent most of his time. The sulky behaviour of the girl now sitting beside Dudley, made Harry wonder if she was the reason for the plea for his silence. He would certainly have wanted to get as far away from her as possible. Perhaps Dudley's overzealousness for female company had led him to this girl and now he was regretting it.

"I hope it was not to be with another girl." When Dudley didn't confirm or deny her statement she gave a disgusted huff, turned away from him in her seat, folded her arms and started to pout again. Finally looking away from Dudley her eyes landed on Harry for the first time. They narrowed suspiciously. "Who's your friend?"

"This is my cousin, Harry. Harry Potter," Dudley replied, seizing on her words. There was no flash of recognition in her eyes making Harry realize again how strange this was. There was no frustratingly familiar flick up to his scar, no widening eyes. "Harry, this is Brenna." Dudley pointed at the blonde sitting beside him " – and Keelie."

Keelie was still standing at the table and she, too, had her arms crossed. She was looking down her nose at them all as though she was not going to lower herself to join them. When Brenna fixed her with an impatient look, Keelie sighed disgustedly, rolled her eyes, and then perched herself in the chair beside Harry. She spared him one quick glance and then turned her head away to watch the people passing by their table. Rather than feeling perturbed by her reaction, Harry felt amused. Maybe this was going to be a fun night after all.

Brenna seemed more than willing to forgive Dudley. Soon she had stopped pouting and was batting her eyes suggestively. Harry was both intrigued and repulsed by this behaviour. He couldn't help but watch them interact for a few minutes. He noticed that Dudley didn't seem as interested in her as she did him. Was he right about the reason they had got involved in the first place? Ginny would be impressed.

"I'm getting drinks," Harry said when he'd had enough of watching Brenna's behaviour. "What d'you three want?"

"Just an ale for me," Dudley said carelessly, not looking at Harry. He had his arm around Brenna's shoulders now. She was saying something that Harry couldn't hear but it was making Dudley smile. This was surely something that would be better kept between them. Still focusing on his companion, Dudley spoke again. "She says a vodka martini."

Keelie, still looking like she would take nothing from such a commoner, refused anything but water.

Harry dearly wished he could use magic as he made his way through the throngs of people back to their table several minutes later. Carrying four drinks and negotiating through a large group of people without being backed into was a lot more challenging than he thought it would be. He supposed he was becoming too reliant on magic. Maybe he should take advantage of his decision to live in Muggle London.

Even though it took a long time to get back to the table safely, once he was there Harry wished it had taken more time. He found Dudley and his girlfriend pawing each other rather more than was appropriate. What they were doing made Ginny's kiss in the atrium several months before look like a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Get a room," Harry said, setting down their drinks in front of each person. The very last thing he wanted to do was sit here and watch his cousin make out with this girl. He was starting to wonder if that's the real reason Dudley had brought him in the first place. He had half a mind to clear out now.

Dudley pulled back from Brenna wearing a sheepish expression.

"Sorry," he said, taking the drink in front of him and downing a quarter of it.

The four of them sat without saying anything for a few minutes before Brenna, putting down her own glass, spoke to Harry.

"So Howie, what do you do? Are you a trust funder too?" She looked at Keelie and then back at Harry. She was looking him over. What she saw apparently didn't meet with her approval because she was now wearing an expression like her friend.

Harry felt his amusement start to fade and it had nothing to do with Brenna's reaction to him. He could care less if she thought he was nothing better than a slug. But if that's the reason that she was acting the way she was with Dudley . . . He really felt like saying something but Dudley gave him another warning look. It was infuriating to say nothing, but it wasn't his life that was really affected by these two girls. Harry decided he'd talk to Dudley about this later.

"Its Harry, actually," he corrected. "And no, I'm not living off a trust fund. I'm . . . in law enforcement." He hadn't thought he'd be answering questions about what he did with his life so he didn't have a ready answer.

Even if the Statute of Secrecy hadn't prevented him from telling what he really was, Harry wouldn't have mentioned he was a wizard. Somehow these two girls didn't seem like they would be able to keep that sort of news secret. They'd be sure to shout it out. Brenna had already demonstrated that she had a voice that carried over the music. The attention this would bring to them would dissolve his anonymity. That wasn't even taking into account the paperwork he'd have to do to have them Obliviated.

"You're a policeman?" Brenna asked, looking him over again. She didn't seem to believe him. "What force do you work for?"

"Er . . ." He really should have been more prepared for these questions. He could have just picked one at random but wasn't that how people always got themselves into trouble? He'd probably pick one where she knew someone. If there was one thing about Brenna, she seemed like she'd be the type who knew a lot of people. "It's a small force. You wouldn't have heard of it."

The two girls exchanged disbelieving glances.

"So what – are you a spy or something?" she asked, a note of derision in her voice.

"No, no, nothing like that. We just . . . don't go after everyday criminals. We're not at liberty to divulge –"

Harry didn't know how to get out of this conversation. He had hoped that this last statement would have caused them to lose interest. They didn't seem the sort that had a long attention span. He'd foolishly gone on to add the last part though. Both girls let out disbelieving laughs.

"Not at liberty to divulge? _Please_! If you ask me, I think he's just trying to build himself up," Keelie said. She was still eyeing him with disdain. Dudley was starting to look sulky, obviously not liking that he was not the centre of attention anymore. Harry decided to put a stop to this stupid conversation before it got out of hand.

"You can choose to believe me, or not. I don't really care. Let's just talk about something else."

Brenna and Keelie both looked at him in shock. They exchanged a look, eyebrows raised. They were obviously coming to their own conclusions.

"Whatever you say, Harry," Keelie replied, smiling at him in a way that was the polar opposite of how she had just been treating him. Harry rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink. He'd liked her icy reception better.

"So Mr. Man of Mystery, why haven't we seen you here with Dudley before?" Brenna asked.

"Because I have to work." Harry shot Dudley a significant look. His annoyance was starting to peak. If Dudley would do the same they wouldn't be here involved in this stupid conversation.

"Yes, of course. It does tend to take rather a lot out of someone to do all that mysterious work, wouldn't you say, Bren?" Keelie asked. She winked at her friend and took a sip of her drink before continuing. "I'd say all he is is some sort of a shop boy. He really wants to be a spy – which I really can't blame you for, Harry – and he thought he'd have a laugh with us . . . maybe get some action in the mix. Have I got it spot on?"

Keelie was watching Harry expectantly. She wore a triumphant smile on her face. Her certainty calmed Harry down and brought back some of his amusement. She'd never be able to guess correctly in a million years, of course. It was quite the game though, knowing he could at anytime send her entire world into a tailspin.

"You are quite right about one thing. As of late my job has not been giving me the excitement I thought it would do. But no, I don't work in a shop. I do work for a law enforcement agency that helps track down a special kind of criminal."

Dudley nodded when Brenna and Keelie looked at him for confirmation. This seemed to be all they needed to believe Harry's story. When they glanced at each other this time, their skepticism was completely gone. Keelie lapsed into an embarrassed silence, and focused on her drink. Brenna tried again.

"So . . . Mr. Spy Guy –"

"I'm not a spy," Harry interrupted. He didn't know what it was about Brenna. There was something about her that tried his patience. He didn't understand how Dudley could even stand her. Parts of his job might be similar to that which was portrayed in the movies, but he could say with absolute certainty that he was no James Bond.

"Semantics, Harry?" Brenna asked, a playful smile on her face. She leaned across the table and spoke in a volume so only the four of them would hear. "So have you caught any law breakers?"

"One."

"Really?" It was Keelie who spoke. She was apparently over her embarrassment. "How'd you do it?"

An answer to this question would take some fast thinking. Harry could not tell them exactly how he had captured Yaxley. That might be considered a rather large breach of the Statute of Secrecy. He thought about saying he couldn't jeopardize an ongoing investigation but if truth be told he was still damn proud of his capture of that Death Eater. Therefore he launched into the tale, having to be careful to change some of the wizrding events into their Muggle equivalents. Yaxley had a gun, not a wand. It was a car chase rather than a broom chase, and the like. He found he couldn't help giving a little more detail than he initially meant to.

"So he's in jail now?" Keelie asked sounding slightly disappointed.

"Yes. And he's going to rot there. After murdering all the people he's done . . ." Harry trailed off furiously. He needed to get his temper under control before he spouted out something he didn't want to.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" The excitement she had just displayed was back. There was a light in Keelie's eyes as she posed this question. It was the same as the one Brenna had when she first asked Harry about the trust fund.

Quite suddenly the last traces of amusement were gone. He clutched his glass hard and it was in as much danger as the glass had been at Ron and Hermione's. He didn't trust himself to speak at all. The nonchalant way she asked the question would have been disturbing enough, but it was made all the worse by the conversation he'd been a part of earlier that evening at Ron and Hermione's.

"What?"

Harry could see the other three exchanging looks. The two girls looked from him to Dudley quizzically. He, too, was watching Harry with an unreadable look on his face. Was it anxiety?

Sighing heaving, Harry nodded.

"You have?" Keelie spoke again, sounding awed. "Was it on the job?"

Harry shook his head mutely. His throat felt dry so he took another great gulp of his drink.

Why had he not just told her to drop it in the first place? He should have denied it, but he didn't want to have Dudley contradict him. Here was yet another topic that he wanted to get away from just as soon as he could.

"So how'd it –" Keelie started again, leaning closer to Harry.

"Just drop it," Dudley told her sharply. "He doesn't want to talk about it."

The shock of having his cousin defend him made Harry look up from his glass. He saw Keelie sit back in her chair, disappointment showing on her face. He couldn't say he was surprised at this. No, his shock was all due to Dudley's reaction. Not so long ago he would have been joining in with the girls rather than siding with Harry.

"Its not something to brag about . . . taking a life. I only did it because I had to . . . I'd – I'd never want to do it again, ever." Harry found it hard to make his voice heard over the pounding music. The only way he could speak was to avoid looking at any of them. When he finished speaking he took another swallow of his drink, finishing it. He was quite ready to go home now. He would have been much better served staying home and working.

A fidgety silence followed his words. The other three were clearly trying to figure out what they wanted to say.

"I'm sorry. Please don't think we're taking your experiences lightly," Keelie said in a voice that was verging on sympathy. She touched his arm lightly, making Harry look at it and then at her. He felt an unreality about this whole situation. "We've just never met anyone with an . . . interesting . . . past."

"Yes," Brenna agreed. She was now devoting her full again to Harry as well. He couldn't say he found this flattering, particularly when she addressed Dudley. "You didn't tell us you had such an interesting cousin, _Dud_."

There was a particular inflection in that last world that was not lost on Harry or Dudley. In light of what they had just been discussing, Harry was less impressed than he would have otherwise been.

"You poor thing," Keelie trilled, massaging his arm. He jerked away, revolted. He'd known her all of thirty minutes and she was doing that? Suddenly it was easy to understand why Dudley spent time with them now.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said, shifting his chair a little farther away and looking directly at Keelie. "Least I am thanks to my _girlfriend_."

Keelie let her hand fall back onto the table, and she started flicking the corner of a paper napkin.

Harry and Dudley looked at each other angrily. He knew why he was angry. He had agreed to come out for a few drinks and maybe some laughs, not to be gawked at like he was some new specimen to be studied. He got enough of that on a daily basis. But why was Dudley mad? He surely couldn't be sore at Harry for the fact they were sitting with two of the stupidest girls around. He hardly considered it an honour to have gained so much of their attention.

Clearly wanting to get away from Harry, Dudley dragged a somewhat reluctant Brenna off to the dance floor. Harry, who had no intention of dancing, was just contemplating the idea of a second drink when Keelie started the conversation again.

"I really am sorry for earlier. Bren and I really didn't mean to upset you. Sometimes we lose our sense."

"Really?" Harry asked sarcastically. He turned to see how many people were waiting at the bar. As he did so he saw Keelie's stunned expression.

"You have every right to be upset. I can't even imagine what it would be like –"

"Whatever, its fine," he replied. "Just drop it already."

Keelie smiled again. "You're really upset. Is there something I can do to make it up to you?"

"Yeah, stop talking –"

His words had the exact opposite reaction. Keelie leaned in close to him and placed her hand on his thigh. "I could do that. Or maybe there's something else that would make you feel better." She was staring at him intently.

Still feeling a little like this was all a dream, Harry looked down at her hand blankly. It took a full five seconds before his mind comprehended what she was saying. He looked back at her and the sparkle playing in her cold blue eyes snapped sense into him. He calmly removed her hand from his leg.

"Where were you just two seconds ago when I told you I've already got a girlfriend?" he asked.

"I don't see her anywhere here, do you? This could be our little secret." Keelie's smile had not faltered in the slightest.

Harry laughed. It sounded hollow, even to his ears. The ludicrousness of this night was reaching alarming levels.

"Are you touched in the head, or what?" he asked, standing up. Keelie followed suit, a hopeful look in her eyes. "Tell my cousin I'm leaving."

Harry turned and walked from the table shaking his head.

Even though he'd flitted in and out of sleep that night, Harry couldn't have said what time Dudley got home. He didn't really blame his cousin for what went on at that club, but knew he'd think twice before accepting another invitation from Dudley.

Sitting up and staring at the pale pink sky, Harry thought he was glad that Ginny hadn't been there. If those girls had tried anything . . . they might not have got away unscathed. Matters would have been even worse if she saw some stupid story in the Prophet about last night. Thinking of all the spells Ginny had learned from the twins made Harry most grateful they'd gone to a Muggle club.

As it was Sunday, Harry was in no rush to do anything He stood up and stretched as he yawned. He grabbed his glasses and headed for the door, thinking he'd see what food they had left.

He was halfway between his bedroom and the kitchen when the flat was lit up with a bright green flash shortly followed by a small pop.

"Harry, where are you?" Ron's voice called loudly. Harry turned to see Ron quickly scanning the small room. He found his query rapidly. "Oh, there you are."

"Ron? Bit early for a floo call," Harry said. Ron usually slept late on Sundays. Anything that would precipitate a call this early wasn't likely to be good news. Ignoring Harry's statement, Ron held out a rolled up newspaper.

Feeling like his confusion was soon going to overwhelm him, Harry grabbed the paper.

"Page four," Ron said.

Harry unrolled the paper and found the page. It had barely fallen open when he groaned.

Page four contained a half-page picture of himself in that nightclub with Keelie. He couldn't see her face, but knew it was taken at the most incriminating time: just before he walked out.

"Care to explain what the hell you were doing?" Ron had remained silent while Harry looked over the paper. He did not look like he was going to remain calm for much longer, so Harry hastened to explain.

As he talked, Harry saw Ron's expression turn from anger to bewilderment.

"You went out with _Dudley_ to a _Muggle_ – wow. Never thought I'd see the day."

"You and me both," Harry replied. "I'll tell you what though, I won't be doing that again. That girl was completely mental." He debated for half a second about telling Ron about her offer but decided against it. The strict boundaries they had established when Harry and Ginny first started dating usually prevented such talk.

"She was hanging around your cousin," Ron said fairly. His head turned in the fire. "Harry," he said. Then there was silence. "Hermione says hi." He rolled his eyes. "Said she'd do it herself but she hates the Floo – yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a mo'" Ron rolled his eyes again.

"Wedding stuff," he answered Harry's unasked question. "Between you and me . . . she's driving me mental." Hermione must have heard that because next second Ron said, "nothing, nothing. Just telling Harry how much I'm looking forward to it. Got to go."

Ron started to pull his head from the fire, but before the connection was broken he leaned back in, that trademark evil Weasley grin plastered across his face.

"I guess Rita Skeeter's going to have to recant her story now. That waitress at the Leaky Cauldron and now this girl? Say bye to those nasty rumors. Ginny's going to do her nut though. Better get ready for the howler now."

Still wearing his evil grin, Ron broke the Floo connection. Harry watched the flames flicker and die feeling that if it were a choice between rumors about his sexuality and Ginny's wrath he'd take the rumors.


	8. The Pink Toad

One of the things Ginny liked least about playing professional Quidditch was the time she had to spend away from home. Her preference was to spend a night in a familiar bed, whether it was her own or Harry's. She had never been able to wrap her head around Jordana and Gwenog's illogical need to have the team travel together when Portkeys and Apparition could have them anywhere in the world in a matter of minutes.

When she woke up this Sunday morning it was to thoughts of the delicious pancake breakfast that her mother was no doubt making, or, even more appetizing, what she and Harry might be doing if she wasn't stuck here training for a game they would be playing against the Tornadoes. There were only a few glorious moments when Ginny could remain in bed and thing about such things. All too soon Jordana or Gwenog would be rousing them to get up and start training.

"Weasley?"

And there it was: the wake-up call.

"Yeah?"

"You awake?" It wasn't Jordana or Gwenog who pulled open the hangings around her bed, but Keddle. She had her blonde hair tied back in a loose bun. She'd been awake for some time then. Ginny bit back the sarcastic comment she felt like making, saying simply "hmm."

She turned to watch her teammate for a minute. It was most unlike Keddle to disturb anyone. There had to be a good reason she was here.

"Sorry to give you such a rude awakening, but we all thought you should see this." She handed Ginny a folded copy of The Daily Prophet.

Ginny eyed it warily. She'd been diligently avoiding the rag ever since the conversation she'd had with her father. The Prophet didn't have the best track record when it came to accuracy and she didn't yet trust herself not to take whatever rubbish that was written in there out on Harry. He'd been tolerant enough with her already.

Not wanting Keddle to get the wrong idea, Ginny took the paper and glanced at it. Sure enough there was a picture of Harry there. She stared at it just long enough to realize that she needed some time to think things over in private.

"Thanks, Ked. I'll be out shortly."

The crestfallen look that Keddle wore did nothing to brighten Ginny's mood. Keddle was one of the worst offenders for constantly making eyes at Harry whenever he came to team functions. She was extremely lucky she hadn't been hexed, Ginny thought.

It looked bad this picture. There was Harry In some sort of club – Muggle by the looks of it, and there was some floozy with her hand –

Wait. He'd gone to a Muggle club? That wasn't like Harry.

Ginny scanned the picture. She could see people in the background dancing. None of them looked familiar at all, except for yet another blonde who was getting a little too cozy with his partner.

Ginny folded the paper and snorted. Harry had gone out with Dudley? That explained everything! The lone surviving Dursley wasn't known for his stellar choice in acquaintances. Hadn't he been the one who befriended Draco Malfoy way back before Voldemort . . .

Ginny picked up the paper again and watched Harry. His expression didn't change in the slightest even though everyone else was moving around normally. This was a reaction she knew all too well. He was in shock.

A small smile started to form on her lips. This was nothing. Before she and Harry had smartened up there had been plenty of those types of photos in the papers. This picture was tame in comparison! What was amusing Ginny now was Harry's reaction. He'd probably have a barrage of apologies for her when she got home on Friday. It was unnecessary but he'd do it anyway.

Ginny could hear the others starting to move around but she did not do the same. The smile slipped from her lips as she looked at the photo more closely. There was more to this photo than she had realized on first inspection. Harry didn't just look stunned he looked upset. She couldn't be sure in the picture but it almost seemed like he was in pain; he could have been struggling with those old demons again.

A bright flash blinded Ginny, almost making the paper fall out of her hands.

"Ha – I told you I'd get you."

"Damn it, Colin, I've told you before not to do that." Ginny could fell her heartbeat start to return to its normal pace after the shock of Colin's appearance.

"Fair's fair," he replied jovially. "Don't worry Ginny these pictures won't fall into the wrong hands. Harry'll make –" Colin stopped talking abruptly and looked from Ginny to the paper, seeming to register that something was wrong for the first time. He raised an eyebrow and waited for an explanation. Ginny handed him the paper. If there was anyone who would know if she was seeing things in this picture it was Colin Creevey. He was the Harpies resident photographer after all and spent his life examining photos.

Colin looked at the picture for a minute and then sighed.

"You're not on about this again, are you? I thought you said that the two of you –"

"No. Not the girl, I could care less about her. Look at Harry. Does he look . . . upset to you?"

Colin sat down on the edge of the bed and looked closer at the picture. "I dunno, Gin. Its really bad lighting and the reflection – did they even set up the shot at all? Such a poor angle, too."

"Its for the Prophet, Colin, not National Geographic."

"Showing off your Muggle Studies, are you?" he asked, smirking as he looked at her again.

"Yeah. Now what's your verdict on that photo?" Ginny did not smile. Colin looked back at it for a fraction of a second before he sighed again.

"I've told you before Ginny, I don't think you have anything to worry about. But I'm a photographer not a psychologist. If you think that he looks troubled why don't you try talking to him?"

Ginny was saved from having to answer that question by Jordana's arrival. There was a very good reason that she didn't do exactly as Colin suggested. Harry would never tell her if something was bothering him, especially in a letter or through a Floo connection. This was one conversation they needed to have face to face. It would lead to another argument, Ginny was quite sure of that.

Harry fully expected to get the Howler Ron prophesized, but it didn't come. No form of communication did. This bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Much as he didn't love falling prey to that legendary Weasley temper, the stony silences were always worse. It had been his experience that those silences meant that Ginny herself realized how angry she was, a sign that she was very near exploding. Harry would have contacted her himself but he'd also learned that when Ginny was in a towering temper it was unwise in the extreme to approach her. Such was his Sunday though that he almost welcomed Monday and the return to work.

Almost.

Harry hadn't given any serious thought to potential reactions from his coworkers over that article. Hard as it might be for an outsider to understand, he still found it difficult to believe that people took an interest in such blatant lies. Fate was to intervene and remind him though. He'd barely taken half a dozen steps out of the Apparition area when a loud wolf whistle rapidly followed by a "way to go Potter" met his ears.

Romeo de Rossi was standing at the entrance to the archives wearing a broad grin. Harry inwardly suppressed a groan. He really wasn't in the mood to listen to another of Rossi's stories, but from the expression on his face, that's exactly what Harry was going to be subjected to.

"I have to say I was worried you didn't have it in you to take advantage of our many opportunities. I'm glad that I was wrong about that. Good man." Rossi clapped Harry on the back, wearing an even bigger smile.

"Yeah?" Harry asked tonelessly. "Glad I was able to impress you." He owed Rossi no explanation and he wasn't going to give him one at all. This drought of details made Rossi's face fall.

"Well at least she was good-looking." He winked at Briony as she emerged from the archives and handed him three scrolls. She didn't blush this time, just looked at Harry, scowled and then headed back into the dimly lit room. When she had disappeared from view entirely Rossi turned to look at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Lover's quarrel?" There was just a slight trace of mockery in his question. He chuckled as he walked away.

Harry peeked into the room one more time to see if he could spot Briony, but he could not. Shaking his head he made his way to his cubicle to prepare for yet another task force meeting.

Why they were still having daily task force meetings was a mystery. Over the last few weeks there had been no new information gathered and none of their leads were panning out. There was nothing that Brazill could find that linked Lestrange or Malfoy to the Thompson and Greer murders. The most frustrating part of this whole situation was that the abductions had all the earmarks of previous crimes committed by the pair. While the charges that the Auror office had against Bellatrix and Lucius were enough to put them both away for several lifetimes having unsolved kidnapping (and probably murder) cases was unacceptable. If only they could get a break, Harry thought as he sat down. They didn't even know what the motive was for kidnapping those particular Muggle-borns. Yes it was well known that both Malfoy and Lestrange were Muggle-born haters. But if it were just a simple matter of wanting to cleanse the wizarding bloodlines why go to all the effort of kidnapping? Why not just murder them? Harry had a feeling that once they found out the answer to that question everything would fall into place, including his biggest question: why had Malfoy and Lestrange teamed up at all?

No one looked happy as they sat down in the meeting that morning. When Moody stumped in and asked if there was anything new it was Brazil who spoke up.

"As usual I have nothing. I doubt anyone else does either, especially when instead of working some of us are out gallivanting all night." She was looking at Harry as she said this, wearing an expression just like Briony's. Harry opened his mouth to comment on this but Moody silenced him with a look, and did the same with Brazill.

"Blaming colleagues will accomplish nothing. I take it your leads didn't pan out then?" Moody asked. Fixing him with a mutinous stare Brazill shook her head. "Anyone else?"

As predicted there was no new information. Harry wondered why they even continued to have daily meetings like this when in the last few weeks their greatest accomplishment was not hexing each other out of frustration. Privately he thought his time could be better served reading the final few reports that would catch him up. Once he had everything read maybe he could get out of the cubicle he'd been stuck in and be an active participant in the investigation.

Moody kept them there for another ten minutes, asking them to recount what they'd been doing, and offering suggestions to further their investigation. He alone seemed indefatigable; no matter how many times he was told that his suggestion had already been attempted he didn't seem deterred. The other members of the team became increasingly ill tempered with each question. Such was the mood that Harry was quite glad to finally get out of that conference room.

Several members of the task force joined Tougas in fixing Harry with angry stares as they made their way to their various employments. Another day he might have been upset by such behaviour but today his own bad mood made Harry glower right back. He trudged off to finish the last of his reading. Not that I should be in that great a rush, he thought bitterly. It didn't sound like there was anything for him to do. Without any new leads the other members of the task force were doing exactly what Harry was now: combing the files for patterns or clues they may have missed. It seemed like another fruitless pastime.

After an hour of trying and failing to read his report, Harry gave it up and decided to track down Briony. She'd always been eager to offer her help everyday, but other than when he arrived this morning and at the meeting he hadn't seen her at all. For some reason this absence bothered him more than the cold behaviour of his fellow task force members.

Hoping she wasn't with Tougas (the very last person Harry felt like dealing with at the moment) Harry set off to find Briony. She wasn't that hard to locate despite her diminutive stature. She was in her usual haunt: the archives. When Harry found her she was absorbed in a scroll longer than she was tall. He saw that it was once again inscribed with the Department of Mysteries logo. He'd completely forgotten that she was secretly researching the use of fear.

"Find anything interesting?" Harry's question made Briony jump and drop the scroll. She turned to face him, looking panicked. Her expression changed when she saw who it was.

"What do you want?" she asked with more bite in her voice than Harry had ever heard before. His voice failed him for a minute as he stared down at her angry face.

"I wanted to ask you what this is all about," he said finally, gesturing to indicate he was talking about her treatment of him.

"You're an Auror and you can't even figure that out?"

This was a low blow. Harry was taken aback for just a second before he replied, "I'm trained to catch dark wizards not figure out the ridiculous mood swings of women."

Briony rolled her eyes and turned away. It looked like she was getting ready to leave. She hesitated for a minute, on the verge of taking a step. She obviously decided she had more to say for she spun around as she said, "You know, I would have expected that behaviour from Rossi, or even Bredan . . . but I thought you were different. Your girlfriend is away one week and –"

"Whoa, wait!" Harry held up his hand to stop her from going on, feeling stupid he hadn't worked out the reason for her behaviour before. Remembering Keelie he had a sudden urge to laugh. "You think I was out cheating on Ginny?"

"You think its funny, do you?" Her voice was getting louder and she reached in her pocket to pull out her wand. "I'd – I'd – love to Transfigure – But I think Ginny'd –" Briony stopped, going red in the face. Harry couldn't help but laugh harden even though he knew it wasn't the wisest thing to do.

"You think this is funny?" she repeated, raising her wand to face level, which barely came to Harry's elbow.

"Come on." He laughed as he plucked the wand from out of her hand. "I didn't think you would believe something written in the Daily Prophet. I thought you knew me better than that."

Briony shuffled her feet and looked at the ground. She stepped on the corner of her parchment and, apparently remembering it for the first time, bent down to pick it up. It looked to Harry as though she was buying herself some time because it took far longer than necessary for her to be satisfied that the scroll was secure.

"So what about that photo then? You and that girl looked pretty cozy."

"Sure, about as cozy as I'd get with a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Don't ask." Harry said in answer to her confusion. He proceeded to explain about Dudley and his companions.

"And you didn't do anything?" Harry couldn't read her expression. Was it doubt or envy?

"I swear. I'd never do that to Ginny." As he handed her back her wand, Harry decided not to tell Briony that he'd had too much time to observe Ginny's hexing abilities to wish to anger her in such a way. "C'mon, why don't we take a break from this place and get a tea?"

It was a little early for the lunch hour so there were few people in the Ministry's cafe. Harry was glad of this. That stupid article was likely to attract him all sorts of unwanted attention. If they could avoid the bulk of the traffic he would have less to complain about.

"So . . . " he started when they sat down. "Have you found out anything interesting from those reports you've been reading?" He'd decided to get right to the point. They hadn't talked about this topic in weeks, which meant she had probably found out loads of information on the effects of fear.

Briony didn't answer. She was staring right through Harry as though he was not there.

"Hello?" he asked, waving a hand to try and get her attention, but all she did was stare at a point just over his shoulder. Perplexed, Harry turned to see what was so captivating. It only took him a second to spot a swatch of violently pink robe among a mass of more conservative blacks, dark blues, grays and browns. He groaned.

Dolores Umbridge had seen them and was headed over.

Thankfully the Ministry was a large place so Harry's sightings of Umbridge had been few and far between. He'd been fortunate to always spy her while he was on his way somewhere. Now though, he had no hope of escaping. He clenched both his hands and teeth as he spotted those words that the horrid woman had forced him to cut into his hand. It was this very one that Briony rested her much smaller hand on, causing Harry to look at her.

"I'll handle her, just try to keep quiet, OK?"

Harry didn't think he wanted to chance speaking so he simply nodded and turned his head, watching Umbridge's approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Hello Aunt Dolores," Briony said brightly. Harry looked up at her words, anxious to see the reaction of the pink toad.

Umbridge did not answer immediately. She used that time to glance from Briony to Harry, her eyes narrowed in harsh disapproval. When she finally spoke though it was in her usual sugary voice.

"Hello Briony, dear. I must say I'm surprised to see you here. Your mother tells me you've been very busy with your work these days."

"Does she?" Briony asked coldly. Harry looked up to see a frown cross her face. "She's quite right. _We_ have been extremely busy in the _Auror office_. Haven't we Harry?"

"Oh . . . er . . . yeah." It took a minute for him to realize why Briony had brought this up. But, of course, it had been Dolores Umbridge who had said that Harry would never work at the Ministry.

Umbridge's lips pursed. She looked like she was struggling with the desire to shout. It was an urge she was able to control in the end. Instead she smiled sweetly.

"I hope all that work you're putting in yields some results, dear. I don't think your mother can stand you missing _another_ holiday due to work, even if it is to help capture two of . . . " Umbridge stopped, forced another simpering smile and added, "Well, I _suppose_ we must rely on the evidence that's been _gathered_ . . . although I don't know if it can be considered as reliable as it once was."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Auntie, seeing as how you spend all your time trying to undermine what Magical Law Enforcement does. I guess that's the drawback to sheltering yourself in your office all day and letting your paranoia flourish. You know I'm shocked you even lowered yourself to come down here. Why is that?" Briony responded as sweetly as her aunt. It was rather frightening.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly. Not only had he never heard Briony speak with so much venom (albeit disguised well), he'd ever even imagined it was something she was capable of.

After staring at Briony open-mouthed for a full ten seconds, Umbridge seemed to realize that she was doing it. She reapplied the smile to her face, though her eyes were narrowed dangerously. Harry had a feeling that a line had just been crossed, one that had likely never been crossed before. He was sure he was right when Umbridge addressed him, keeping her eyes on her niece. "Mr. Potter if you'll excuse us, we have a family matter to discuss privately."

Harry turned to look at Briony. If she wanted him to leave he would, but he wasn't going anywhere because Dolores Umbridge asked him to. Briony nodded in a resigned sort of way so Harry left.

He'd barely had time to think about where he was going to sit when Harry heard his name. He reluctantly turned, wondering if he wanted to know whom it was, but it was Hermione. She was sitting at a table just a few down from where Harry had been sitting with Briony. Feeling both grateful she was there and a little guilty about not noticing her before, he quickly made his way over to where Hermione was sitting with Justin Finch-Fletcheley.

"Sorry I didn't see you before," he said, sitting down.

"Oh that's OK. We just got here ourselves," Hermione replied. "Harry you remember Justin, right?"

"Of course. How are you, Justin?" Harry asked, taking the proffered hand.

"Well, thank you. Although I'd be a lot better if we didn't have to keep looking over our shoulders for Death Eaters." Justin was smiling, but Harry could see dark circles under his eyes. "It makes it rather hard to be getting on with our duties when we have to check in and out as though we were library books. Don't you agree?"

"I do," Hermione said. "I just thank goodness that we don't have Aurors following our every move when we're at work, too. No offence, Harry."

Hermione had obviously mistaken the reason for the frown on his face. He wasn't pleased with the Ministry's decision to leave the Muggle-borns unguarded while they were in the building. There were protective spells, that was true, but that hadn't prevented Voldemort and the Death Eaters from getting in once before. Wards weren't foolproof; Privet Drive had proven that to him above all else. Harry realized that his fellow Aurors had other duties that took up their time, but he had a feeling that this decision to leave any Muggle-born unprotected, even in the Ministry, would be another they regretted. He just hoped he would turn out to be wrong.

"You wouldn't complain if they save your life though, would you?" he asked.

Justin and Hermione exchanged exasperated looks.

"What?" Harry asked impatiently.

"You just sounded like an Auror, that's what," Hermione replied. "A lot like Moody in fact. The only thing that was missing was 'constant vigilance.'"

"Take this seriously, will you? Both of you. You're gambling with your lives here," Harry replied angrily, wiping the smirks off their faces. He hadn't meant to be as harsh as he had been, but the fact they were being flippant about a real danger had caused him to overreact. He felt he might apologize for his tone, but when he saw that they looked like they'd lost their smiles he decided against it. If a scare was what they needed to take caution then it was worth it.

"I . . . uh . . . think I didn't finish that report on – I'll see you upstairs later Hermione," Justin said, not making any real attempt to disguise his desire to leave. Hermione and Harry both watched him do so before she spoke furiously.

"I can't believe you, Harry. I thought you, of al people, would understand how frustrating this is. Its no picnic having someone follow you everywhere."

"Why would I -"

"You spent two years of your life being tailed, remember? And we certainly had to hear enough about it for the memory to be stuck in our minds." Hermione said all this with an annoyed expression on her face. If she thought this would win Harry over to her way of thinking though she was sorely mistaken. He would only concede one point. Leaning in and putting his elbows on the table he chose his words before speaking.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, but I just want to make sure you're not trying to lose your guard or anything stupid. Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy would love the opportunity to snatch you. I, for one, wouldn't want to have to give that news to your parents, or Ron."

Hermione was watching him shrewdly as he spoke.

"I'd never think of doing that. No matter how much we hate this protective detail we know you're all doing your best. I just wish you'd hurry up and catch those two nutters already."

"You and me both," Harry admitted. Hermione cocked an eyebrow, forcing Harry into more speech. "I wouldn't mind all the hard work so much if it seemed like it was leading anywhere. But ever since the Thompson and Greer – " he stopped abruptly realizing he was saying too much. "They've been pretty quiet lately and we haven't been able to find any clues at the previous crime scenes to actually link them with the crimes."

Contrary to her usual nature, Hermione remained silent, obviously at as much of a loss as everyone on the task force.

In the silence that fell, Harry looked over at Briony and wasn't at all pleased to see Umbridge was still there. Their exchange looked like it was becoming heated. Now he wasn't engrossed in his own conversation with Hermione he could just make out their words.

" . . . Any respect for your family at all? How can you possibly show such contempt for your parents? I know my sister raised you better than this." A cacophony of noise prevented Harry hearing the next few seconds of Umbridge's tirade, but he did hear both his and Tougas's names mentioned with contempt.

"They're friends of mine," Briony replied loudly, causing more than one person to look at the two women.

Umbridge who had been leaning down and talking in a quieter voice than was usual (though it still carried) stood straight and smiled widely at everyone until they looked away. Once she thought they could not be overheard she bent down again and started speaking rapidly, but at a volume Harry could not hear. He had no trouble with Briony's next statement though.

After about thirty seconds she stood up, towering about a head over her aunt and said in a ringing tone, "There's nothing respectable about hypocrisy. You can tell my mother that and that I look forward to her Howler. Good day Aunt Dolores."

Briony stormed out of the cafe without a backward glance at any of the staring faces.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked, also watching the scene with a confused expression.

"No idea." Harry was focusing on Briony. He'd never heard her react to strongly to anything before. He felt his stomach twisting. The very last thing he wanted was to be responsible for any rift in her family.

"Listen, Hermione. I'm going to go talk to her, d'you mind?" Harry was already halfway out of his seat before she began to shake her head. He barely registered the return of her shrewd expression. "Thanks. I'll talk to you later. Don't forget what I told you about being cautious."

It didn't take more than a minute for Harry to catch up with Briony who was waiting for the lifts. She was seething. It was an expression he was more used to seeing on Ginny's face.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No," she said curtly, turning back to face the lifts. Harry saw her hands were clenched into fists.

They stood there in silence for some time before Harry said, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she snapped, causing Harry to recoil. He wondered whether he dared to continue but he had already started down this path, so he had to complete his thought.

"I don't want to be the cause of problems with your family. If –"

"Don't flatter yourself, Harry," Briony said still sounding just as angry. The lifts still held most of her attention. Harry thought she was done talking and given her obvious heightened state of emotionality he couldn't say he was disappointed.

"Its not about you, well not directly about you anyway," she said eventually. "Well, maybe for my Aunt Dolores it is. She hates you."

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you." Harry spoke quickly when she looked at him apologetically. This made her smile.

"Well, as I'm sure you can guess by my Aunt's fit just now, my family has strong views . . . I should say most of my family has strong views on blood status. You probably figured that much out by her fear of half-bloods. They frown on the fact I've befriended Bredan, but most especially you. My parents though – " She stopped talking when a bright flash of pink announced Umbridge was coming. The arrival of the lift saved them from another encounter. "Thank goodness. I think I might have Crucio'd her if I had to have another conversation today."

Umbridge and her group of cronies deliberately held back from entering the lift. As the gates closed Harry saw her watching Briony and himself with her eyes narrowed again. This, combined with Briony's latest comment, made him feel a little impish. He put his arm around Briony's shoulder and squeezed. This achieved the desired result. It looked like the woman's eyes were going to bulge right out of her head. Just before the lift began to ascend, Harry shot her a wide grin.

Once their lift reached the next floor Harry removed his arm.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself," he said, only now thinking about what Briony might have thought of this action. Hopefully she didn't read too much into it.

"Sorry?" she asked, smiling broadly. "Did you see her face? I really thought her head might explode. I've never seen her that mad. You just made my week."

"Glad I could oblige. I do have a special ability to get under her skin."

"That you do." Briony's smile faltered. "Oh, I'm going to hear about this. If I wasn't getting a Howler before I definitely am now." She grimaced.

"Sorry." Harry also grimaced. He really shouldn't be getting in the middle of her family problems. He spent a lot of time making himself forget in the beginning that Briony was related to Umbridge. Apparently he'd been just a little too successful at that task.

"You should be. The last time my mother sent me a Howler it destroyed my favorite quill and two weeks worth of work. Luckily I was still working for Arthur Weasley then. If that were to happen with Moody . . . " She looked horror-stricken. "If that happens . . . "

"I'll explain to Moody for you. But try to open it in a non-flammable area, yeah?"

"And you're buying me a new quill. The one I have now cost me two days salary."

"Two days?" Harry asked incredulously. Briony looked at him warningly. "Howler. Right. Yeah, OK, you've got yourself a deal." This agreement was reached as they exited the lift on their floor.

Briony got her Howler after work Monday night so, thankfully, her quill was spared but it came at the expense of her hearing she told Harry on Tuesday morning. She said she'd gone to bed that night wondering if the Ministry had any hearing trumpets on hand. It had been a relief to find her auditory capabilities in perfect working order when she woke up the next morning.

The rest of the week passed in a much more pleasant atmosphere than Monday had. It was quite as unproductive as the start of the week had been, but at least everyone was in a better mood. Everyone, it was, except Tougas.

Friday finally came, leaving Harry with only one worry: the continued silence from Ginny. She hadn't so much as sent a letter to say they'd talk about that photo when she got back or telling him to sod off. In the past no matter how busy she'd been in training she'd always found time to scribble something.

This long silence was even more troubling for the fact that it was going to be the first weekend off they'd had together in months. Harry had big plans for their time even some outside the flat (a rare treat these days) and he didn't want them spoiled by a huge row over Dudley's libidinal needs and those who fulfilled them.

It was only on Friday morning as he rolled over and awoke to the faded scent of her hair on his pillow that Harry thought again of contacting Ginny. Surely she could not be that angry with him now that he would be in any danger of contacting her. He'd waited too long though. Game day was always her busiest day. She definitely wouldn't have time to answer him before the match. It would be quicker to see her after the game like he already planned to.

The prospect of a weekend without work, possibly one spent entirely in Ginny's company buoyed Harry up so much that he knew he'd even be able to tolerate Tougas.

"Big plans for your weekend?" Briony asked as they entered the task force meeting together.

"Ginny's home tonight so . . . yeah."

"Really? What d'you – oh." Briony blushed furiously and looked away. Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"Maybe that, but I actually do have some things planned; assuming she's not too hacked off at me anyway."

They separated after that. Harry took his usual seat beside Dawlish, who was snoring lightly, dark circles under his eyes. Unlike Harry, he wouldn't be enjoying time off. He still had Hermione to watch.

How Dawlish was managing it all was a mystery to Harry. He spent his days here like everyone else, but then at night he was at Ron and Hermione's. Recalling this, Harry felt a little of his jubilation ebb away to be replaced with guilt. Dawlish had been working on the team since its inception and yet he was doing more, not less.

Such was Harry's guilt that he would have gone to Moody that very day and offered to guard Hermione himself if he hadn't been told time and time again never to make things personal. Besides that fact, Dawlish was a brilliant Auror. Other than Moody, Tonks, or Kingsley, there was no one else he'd rather have keeping an eye on Hermione. Even in his current state of exhaustion Harry was sure Dawlish would be able to hold anyone off long enough to call for reinforcements. That was, as long as Hermione didn't do anything stupid.

"Dawlish?" Harry said quietly, surreptitiously nudging him, realizing this was not the first time he'd had to do this.

Dawlish jerked awaken and looked around quickly, getting his bearings. Spotting Harry he looked away almost at once as he gruffly said, "Thanks again, Potter."

"No problem." Harry smiled a little because he saw a little humor in the situation. He wasn't sure if Moody would though, and he could hear him barking something just outside the door. Harry therefore asked, "So how's Hermione? Is she behaving herself?"

"Very much so, why? Do you suspect she might not?"

"Well . . . " Harry hesitated for a fraction of a minute, battling with his desire to keep his friend safe and his own memories of what it had felt like to be followed and unable to protect himself. "I don't think so."

There wasn't time for Harry to say more because Moody entered just then with Brazill and Tougas. It was immediately apparent that something had changed. He sat up straight in his chair and waited impatiently for the three late arrivals to take theirs. Everyone else was doing the same thing.

"You've obviously realized that we have news for you. Tougas, tell them."

Harry expected to see a look of triumph on his supervisor's face at being asked to tell everyone what was going on. Instead he was looking more serious than Harry could recall. Tougas looked around at them all to make sure they were all watching. His eyes seemed to linger a second longer on Briony than anyone else.

"We've received several reports that the Death Eaters are planning an attack on Buckingham Palace."

The room was so quiet that they could have heard a pin drop. Everyone glanced around at each other with worried looks on their faces.

"We don't know when or where this attack is going to take place. The people who contacted us reported only that there was suspicious activity in their area. We need to find out more particulars. These reports gave us the area we have to investigate. It's a big area as I'm, sure you're all aware. So we've got a lot of work cut out fro us. I don't think I need to tell you this could be a huge breech of the Statute of Secrecy if they're allowed to get away with anything."

Harry could see by the expressions on his colleague's faces that they were thinking the same things he was: this was very nearly an impossible task. If Bellatrix and Lucius decided to show up themselves a duel was inevitable. There were always visitors surrounding the castle, not to mention the guards. Even if they Disillusioned themselves their movements were unlikely to go unnoticed. He brought up this point.

"Good thinking Potter. So how do we combat that?" Moody asked.

No one answered for a long time.

"Unless we took the place of some of them," Harry said slowly. "How many of us are going to be there?"

"We don't know. That's one of the particulars we need to work out," Tougas snapped. "We need to have a plan in place. Our sources tell us it's going to happen after dark. We should be there and in place by sundown at the latest. I think by eight. What do you think, sir?"

"Anyone have anything to add to Potter's plan yet?" Moody asked. Everyone shook their heads. He turned his attention to Tougas. "Make it seven. I want all our concentration on the palace. As an added measure I'm going to talk to the Minister and get him to clear everyone out of the Ministry tonight. If those two vermin are active again we need to take all precautions. Let's get to work."

Moody disappeared to talk with Kingsley without another word and left and everyone else to get busy. Schematics of Buckingham Palace were pulled out and studied. They had rather lengthy discussions on how they were going to situate themselves amongst the guards without blowing their cover. This latest part was the trickiest because of the obvious public setting.

"The absolute worst place they could have picked," Schultz said around lunchtime as she returned from a scouting mission. The only way I can see this working is if we Confund everyone around us."

"No one said it was going to be easy," Togas replied irritably.

Their eventual plan was to lurk around the palace until dark when they could hopefully steal some hairs from a few guards and make the change without anyone noticing. It was a shoddy plan, they knew, but it was the only one that had a hope of working. Four of them would have a chance to stand in and look around while the other two (probably Harry and Moody) covered the remaining area by foot and above the castle.

This news had driven everything from Harry's mind for many hours. As they took a short break Briony came up to him.

"This is rather exciting, isn't it? The idea we might actually get them tonight."

"Yeah," Harry said. He wasn't feeling the sense of excitement he had when apprehending Yaxley, nor what he thought he would feel when they finally moved in to get Malfoy and Lestrange. No, he felt uneasy. They'd been quiet for moths. To all of a sudden let it be known they were active again, and at such a monument? Something seemed wrong, but Harry couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"I hope this doesn't ruin all of your plans with Ginny."

Harry stopped walking. Thoughts of Ginny had been driven from his mind with the information that there might be a Death Eater attack on a place far more crowded than any Harry had experience with. Now Briony had reminded him about his plans that added a worry: how was he going to get a message to Ginny?

Such an opportunity came late that afternoon.

Having finalized their preparations with some time left, Harry decided to quickly dart home, grab his invisibility cloak, leave a note for Dudley, and send Hedwig to Ginny with a letter explaining why he wasn't able to make her game. She couldn't get mad at him for it, he hoped.

He was just tying the roll to Hedwig's leg when there was a popping noise. He turned to see Tougas's head sitting in the fire.

Harry was about to ask what was going on. He'd been gone five minutes. Nothing could have changed that much in that short amount of time. He didn't get a chance to say anything though.

"Potter, we need you back here to the atrium. Now!"

Before Harry could so much as form the word 'what' Tougas was gone again. Harry might have thought his supervisor touched in the head for such a reaction, but there was something in his tone that made Harry hastily send Hedwig off and use the Floo Network to get back to the Ministry. He felt even queasier than was usual with a Floo journey as he ran though every possible scenario that could have happened in the five minutes he'd been gone.

Harry stopped mid-brush as he stepped out of the fireplace. The atrium was far more crowded than it should have been at seven o'clock on a Friday evening, and there were all manner of loud shouts. It was impossible to determine whether they were cheering or crying. Given Tougas's demeanor though, Harry was confident in saying the news was bad. Drawing his wand he rapidly moved through the crowd looking for the source of the trouble or at least someone who might know.

He walked past scores of embracing people, many of whom where openly sobbing into their companion's shoulder. They all seemed to be staring at the new war memorial.

Briony appeared quite suddenly at Harry's side. He started to ask her what was going on but all she would say was 'not here' as she pulled him through the crowd.

They finally broke through the milling people who were stopped about ten feet back from the structure, watching all the members of Harry's team (except Dawlish) and Kingsley.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking at each of them in turn.

Kingsley pointed wordlessly at the memorial. The side currently hidden from the crowd had drawn the attention of the half dozen people Harry worked with. He slowly turned, not wanting to see. He stared blankly at the new addition for a full minute without comprehending what the glittering emerald shape was. Then, as though it had suddenly struck him with a club, Harry felt a wave of memories rush into his pounding head.

The Dark Mark!


	9. The Bleeding Of An Old Wound

Ginny was very disappointed when she received Harry's owl five minutes before the match was to start. She wanted to rage and storm about how unfair it was. She had big plans for their weekend, but of course his work came first. They'd just have to talk about everything later. She put everything out of her mind and concentrated on the game.

The match was short-lived. Keddle was on spectacular form. Twenty-five minutes into the game she caught the snitch, saving them. The Tornado's Seeker wasn't daft, but their Chasers were top notch. They were ahead by seventy points when Keddle caught the snitch.

Ginny was prepared to endure the post-match press, but Jordana rushed into the changing room with a worried expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Jor?" Abdullah asked. "We still won by eighty points."

Jordana said nothing as she set up a little wooden wireless and quickly tuned into a broadcast in progress. Kingsley was speaking.

" . . . We take every precaution to ensure that our premises are safe."

Ginny sank down onto the bench, clasping her blouse to her chest. She had to struggle to keep breathing. A sense of lightheadedness had overcome her and she couldn't take in the reporter's next question.

"Yes. I will confirm that the Dark Mark was cast on the memorial. No I do not think that it's a sign that Voldemort has returned. He is dead. You all know that."

"What of these reports of a missing Ministry employee, Minister?"

"I'm sorry to say those are true as well."

Something in Kingsley's tone reenergized Ginny. She jumped to her feet, pulled her blouse on haphazardly, and pulled her jacket overtop it, all the while telling Jordana she had to leave.

"Go."

Ginny stopped just a few feet outside the changing rooms, took several steadying breaths and concentrated on their usual alley for Apparition. She didn't stop running until she was outside the door to Harry's flat, and then it was only long enough to do a quick sweep around to make sure no one was watching as she used magic to unlock it.

"Harry?" she called before the door had closed behind her.

Silence.

She ran from room to room.

Empty!

Heart thumping painfully in her chest, Ginny returned to the sitting room to try and think what to do next. She hadn't even waited to hear where this was occurring but it sounded like it was somewhere at the Ministry. She jumped out of her seat, ready to go and find out what was going on.

The fire turned green as Ginny took a few hurried steps toward it. She jumped back, ready to rush into Harry's arms, but it was her mother.

"Oh Ginny. Thank heavens you're all right." She pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "The others are coming."

And so they did. In very short order not only was Molly there, but also Lupin, Tonks, Ron, Hermione and Dawlish. It was to the Auror Ginny spoke first.

"Have you heard anything other than what's been in the news?" It was only thanks to her mother's arm around her shoulder that Ginny didn't lunge at Dawlish.

"The last I heard was their plan to guard the palace. I know nothing of these events."

No one said anything for what felt like an eternity.

"I . . . I'm sure Harry's fine. His instinct is too good to get into trouble," Hermione stated. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Ginny.

"And a generous measure of good luck," Tonks added, sitting down on the sofa. Lupin sat down beside her, giving Ginny a reassuring smile. Like Hermione though it looked like he was relying a little too much on optimism.

There wasn't much that could be said. Ron eventually turned on the wireless. Ginny listened to it for a while but it was a recap of all she'd heard and there was no mention of Harry, good or bad.

After a time Ginny couldn't stand to sit any longer. She made her way into the kitchen and started putting things away. Harry couldn't have been here or he would have cleaned up Dudley's mess. She could have easily used magic to wash up the few dishes in the sink but it felt good to occupy her hands.

"You must not be OK," Ron said. "Washing dishes without magic I ask you?"

"I can't just sit there and wait."

"D'you want a hand?"

"No, thanks. Go back to Hermione. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," she said finally, not looking at Ron anymore.

Ron hesitated for a minute before pulling her into a quick one-armed hug.

"I'll be OK. You'll see," he said before walking away. Ginny had to grip the counter for a minute after he left. Where Ron got his certainly from she didn't know but she wished she could share it. She didn't want to think about the possibility that all of their hopes could turn out to be dashed. She'd rather just stay busy and not think about either situation until it was absolutely unavoidable.

When she could no longer pretend distraction by household chores Ginny reluctantly returned to the living room, perching on the arm of the sofa beside her mother with a good view of the fireplace and the door. The others were conversing a little too casually. Ginny noticed they were all frequently turning to watch the fire or door like she was though.

"What about queasiness?" Molly was asking Tonks.

"No."

"Be thankful for that. I had the most awful case of it with the twins. All I could keep down for months was Honeydukes chocolate."

"Maybe that's where they got the idea for the Skiving Snackboxes," Ginny said tonelessly. She was watching the door but she felt her mother take her hand and pat it.

"I'm glad, too. I've been able to keep down all my food. Everything's been really good actually, except for the most horrible nightmares. I don't think I've had a decent night's sleep in a month." Tonks grimaced.

"Don't you have any dreamless sleep potion??" Hermione asked.

"Can't take it. The only bloody potion out there that I need and it's the only one pregnant women can't take," Tonks replied showing exactly how annoyed she was.

"Take heart. Only four more months." Lupin massaged the tiny bulge in her stomach and gave her a small smile. Tonks returned it, glowing again, apparently forgetting her annoyance as quickly as it had come.

They talked more about the new baby as Ginny stood up and began pacing. The wireless was now running a talk show, discussing the appearance of the Dark Mark.

"I don't know why they're being so secretive about it. Who was this Ministry worker that was taken? What is Shacklebolt hiding from us?" asked the first of the two hosts.

"I'll tell you, Ed," the other said, darkly. "Because You-Know-Who's probably back and they're hiding it from us again. I bet you that Ministry worker is Harry Potter and that's why we've been denied news of him too. I'd wager my wand that Potter's dead. They wouldn't want to release that information in a hurry with You-Know-Who back."

After regaining her breath yet again Ginny was on the verge of lunging across the room to throw the wireless against a wall when Lupin spoke.

"If that had happened Kingsley would have told us straight away."

This was quite true, but every minute that went by in which they didn't hear from, or about, Harry was decreasing Ginny's certainty.

Her mother was just trying to convince Ginny to have a cup of tea when she heard the click of the lock. She pushed her mother away and ran to see if it was Harry.

It was.

Ginny was about to fling herself into his arms when she noticed how pale he was. It really looked as though he might pass out.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, looking him over for any signs of harm. Before she could complete a full examination Harry pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Everything's fine. Now," he said into her hair.

They stood there like that: oblivious to the other six people in the flat until Molly spoke.

"Are you sure you're OK Harry? Your scar –"

"What about it?" Ginny asked, pulling away and looking up at the scar that had made Harry so famous and had caused him so many headaches in years past.

"Nothing," Harry replied, flattening his fringe and looking shifty. He looked at her pleadingly to drop it, but she was not going to so he sighed and slowly brushed back his hair.

Ginny heard her mother and Hermione gasp, Ron's shout of "bloody hell," and the sharp intake of breath that surely came from Lupin, but she didn't look away from Harry.

The scar on his forehead that had faded so much after the downfall of Voldemort was once more a vivid scarlet. When Harry took his hand away Ginny could see it was spotted with blood. As far as she knew his scar hadn't bled since the night Voldemort had fallen. Why now?

Something of her question must have shown in Ginny's eyes for Harry, who hadn't looked at anyone else either, shrugged. He clearly had no more of an explanation than anyone else.

Molly scurried into the bathroom coming back a moment later with a small bottle of green liquid that Ginny recognized at once as their Essence of Dittany.

"Clear off you lot," Molly said, shooing Ron, Hermione and Lupin off the sofa. When it was empty she told Harry to come over.

"Honestly, Molly, I'm fine," he said, not looking at her.

"No, you're not," Ginny said. "People whose old wounds start bleeding again are definitely not fine." She pulled him over to the sofa and made him lie down, ignoring Harry's exasperation and embarrassment.

"The more you protest the longer this is going to take," Ginny told him. He sighed and leaned back, saying no more.

Ginny took the bottle of Dittany from her motherm who was making motions that indicated she wanted to take over, but Ginny wasn't going to stand for that. It was only with the greatest reluctance that Molly handed the bottle over.

"We'll just give that a few minutes to take effect," Ginny said, watching the potion seep into the red scar tissue. She knew almost immediately that the Dittany wasn't working. The bleeding should have stopped at once which it did not. She waited a minute before looking at her mother.

"What?" Harry asked, looking between the two women.

"Its not working. You're still bleeding," Hermione answered, looking down from her position behind the sofa. Harry sighed again in an exhausted sort of way and closed his eyes. "What happened to make your scar start bleeding again? What did you do?"

"Nothing," Harry said defensively. "I don't know what happened. One minute I was looking at that Dark Mark and the next I had a splitting headache and Briony –" he shot a nervous glance at Ginny here, " – was the one that noticed. After that they sent me home."

"Don't sound so resentful. You can't work in this condition," Ginny told him. "Its just a good thing you weren't doing anything dangerous like flying when this came on."

Harry still didn't look convinced. He was looking at Dawlish who seemed anxious to get an update on the events at the Ministry. After he shot her a meaningful look, Ginny rounded up the others and moved them into the small kitchen.

It was both a good and a bad thing that the flat was so small. On the downside six of them had to crowd into the tiny kitchen. In the shuffle Ginny was easily able to situate herself close enough to hear what Harry was telling Dawlish.

" . . . Reporters there when I arrived. Kingsley was furious. I heard them talking about photos."

"The Prophet?" Dawlish asked and received a nod from Harry. Ginny saw them exchange weary looks. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were thinking. This latest development meant two things. The Aurors were going to have a lot of new work finding out who had cast the Dark Mark, meaning more long hours. She was also sure that the Daily Prophet was going to be full of photos of the Dark Mark. Old fears would be reignited. It was enough that people were scared because of the increase in dark activity, but this was quite enough to send everyone into a full-blown panic.

Harry and Dawlish had already moved onto other matters, specifically how the mark had got onto the memorial in the first place.

"No one saw anything at all?" Dawlish asked disbelievingly.

"Nearly everyone had left. The people who were there when I got back were supposed to be the last to leave for the night. They were the ones who discovered the mark."

A certain cadence to Harry's voice made Ginny think he was not being as forthcoming as he should have been.

"So no reason why the memorial then? No one was harmed?" Dawlish questioned.

"I was there such a short time that I can't answer that. We had just started questioning people when they sent me home."

"Should I go – do they need assistance?"

"I daresay they do, but I was told if I saw you that you're to stay with Hermione until further instructed," Harry replied.

Ginny could hear the frustration in their sighs. She certainly didn't agree with them. The last place she wanted Harry to be was where danger was. Anyplace that had a Dark Mark was unsafe. She wanted at least one night where she didn't have to worry.

" . . . Connection to our case at all."

Dawlish said nothing for a few minutes, considering Harry's words. He paced back and forth for some time as Harry slowly got to his feet. Ginny only stopped herself from interjecting because she wanted to know what was going on.

"I think," Dawlish began, "you're right. We cannot put it past those two to throw it in our face that they are still out there."

"Thank you. But Tougas thinks different. He thinks – no, insists, that this has to do with me somehow. Because the appearance of the Dark Mark automatically means I'm involved," Harry stated sarcastically.

"Fool," Ginny said loudly before she could stop herself. Everyone fell silent and turned to look at her. Ginny shook her head at their inquiring gazes. She saw a look of amusement in Harry's eyes. He wasn't angry that she had been listening to his conversation.

"Did you see Justin there?" Hermione asked in an offhand way. "He was complaining all day about having to leave early. I think he might have been planning to stay there tonight."

"He what?" Harry yelled. His hand immediately went to his head. Ginny feared he'd started bleeding again but it looked like that had finally stopped. No, now he only looked like he was still suffering that headache.

"Maybe you should lie down again," Molly suggested. Harry ignored her and strode over to the fireplace. He threw some Floo powder in. A minute later he was deep in conversation with someone. From his body language whatever he was being told was not to his liking at all. When he finally withdrew Ginny knew something was terribly wrong.

"You were right, Hermione. Justin apparently found a way to duck his guard and stay. He was there this evening when everything went down."

"Is he all right?" Hermione asked sounding relieved.

"What d'you mean 'was'? Is he not still there?" Lupin asked. He looked like he already knew the answer. Ginny was pretty sure she did, too. The grave expression Harry was wearing spoke volumes.

"They found Rossi a few minutes ago, stunned it looks like. He's still a little out of it but he said he didn't see anything."

"And Justin?" Hermione asked tentatively, her hand hovering near her mouth.

"He wasn't there. All the evidence is pointing towards kidnap."

Total silence followed Harry's words. Looks were exchanged but soon they were all looking at Hermione who now had her hand over her mouth and seemed as though she would remain frozen in that position for some time.

"Schultz and Brazill are investigating. Moody said you're not to leave Hermione's side," Harry told Dawlish, repeating his earlier comments. "He wants us there tomorrow at seven-thirty. He said he'd Floo if anything new comes up. Hermione, you're to come tomorrow as well. We're meeting with all the Muggle-borns around lunchtime."

Hermione did not argue at all. She merely nodded her head before turning to Ron. "I think I want to go home now," she said quietly. Her voice was thick with unshed tears.

"Of course."

Ron, Hermione and Dawlish were the first to leave, followed shortly by the others. When at last they were alone Ginny watched as Harry crossed the small distance that separated them. Without saying a word, he kissed her deeply.

When he pulled away Ginny reached up and brushed the hair away from his scar. It had definitely stopped bleeding but was still a vivid red.

"I'm sorry about all this," he said. "Having to work again. It's probably going to take up the entire weekend."

"It's a lead. Maybe you'll be able to catch whoever did this," she said truthfully. It was amazing what a difference a few hours made. Who cared that this had ruined her plans for the weekend. There would be other weekends. Just knowing that Harry was fine was enough for her today. "Come on, you've got an early day tomorrow. Let's go to bed."

Harry showed no signs of wanting to talk anymore about the incident at the Ministry. Ginny couldn't blame him for it. She didn't have much inclination to push him into talking because she knew he would have no further answers for her than he'd been able to give Dawlish. The curse that had linked him to Voldemort for so long was unique without a proven explanation so it was unlikely that Harry would know the cause of this bleeding.

Bringing back the image of those tiny droplets of blood oozing from his scar, Ginny thought she understood why Harry had been sent home. While the general public didn't know all the gory details of his shared connection with Voldemort there had been some leaks about what his scar really was. If people who were already frightened by the appearance of the Dark Mark saw his scar bleeding again there would be mass hysteria.

Harry fell asleep almost at once much to Ginny's surprise. Unable to drift off she found herself watching him. As always Harry looked almost peaceful when he was lost in his slumbers. Tonight he especially needed some undisturbed rest.

Still deeply troubled over the evening's events, Ginny reached over and again brushed a wisp of hair from across Harry's forehead so she could look at the scar. It was a lot harder to see it in the dark but a streetlamp outside provided a little light. She could see that it had not faded at all since Harry had walked in the door. In fact it looked like it had before Voldemort's death. There had to be an explanation why this was happening. Ginny knew she would not get it this night but her mind couldn't stop racing over possibilities. The first stop for her tomorrow was definitely going to be Ron and Hermione's.

She'd been staring at Harry's scar for so long without really seeing it that it took Ginny some time to return to reality and realize that Harry wasn't as peaceful as he seemed. His head was swinging from side to side as though he was trying to clear it or shake off a large bug. She could just barely make out the tense expression that had taken over his face. He'd tensed his entire body. This nighttime behaviour was, unfortunately, very familiar. The evening's events had brought back Harry's old nightmares again.

"Harry," Ginny called quietly, leaning over and giving him a gentle shake. He stilled for a moment before his eyes slowly opened. Without his glasses Ginny knew that he'd have a much harder time seeing her than she did him. "You were dreaming again."

He hadn't been asleep that long but apparently long enough to be disoriented now. It took several long seconds before Harry relaxed and spoke.

"You're all right?" he asked taking Ginny's hand in his. She nodded, squeezing his fingers. Harry pulled her down to him and wrapped his arm around her. Within seconds he was asleep again. Ginny couldn't sleep as easily. It was almost two a.m. when she finally drifted off knowing she'd spend the next day looking for answers.

Ginny's sleep remained light all night with the result that she was up before Harry. She put on a brave face, hoping he would not recall waking in the night. He had remembered though. He was keeping close to her but speaking very little. Though she was feeling equal measures of worry and annoyance, Ginny said nothing. Harry really hadn't changed much at all. He joked about being scared of her temper but she knew he didn't trust that she could defend herself. In months past they'd fought over this issue. After the absolute fear she'd felt the night before Ginny wasn't going to question him on it.

In the light of day it was easy to see Harry's scar was still a little red but it looked more like it had before the appearance of the Dark Mark. The same questions she'd been suppressing since the evening before came back to her: why had his scar bled and what had caused it?

"Gin?" Harry asked snapping her back to attention. When Ginny looked at him she saw he was watching her with as much concern as she was feeling. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

He wasn't convinced of her lie but he didn't press the matter either. Before Ginny knew it he was out the door, leaving her alone in the flat. The minute all was silent she sat at the kitchen table and sunk into more thoughts. As she had been thinking the evening before she knew that there would be no easy answer. When it came to finding impossible explanations the best person to speak with was Hermione. It was time to go to Hogsmeade.

It was only as she made he way up their garden path that she wondered whether she should have Flooed first. Her question was answered when Ron flung the door open as she was taking the last steps. He was smiling.

"Didn't expect to see you today," he said, ushering her in. "We thought that after last night you and Harry'd –"

"He's at work," Ginny interrupted. "I'm here about that though. Is Hermione here?"

Ron's face fell and he trudged away calling for Hermione, who appeared a minute later clutching a large book under her arm.

"I suppose you want to talk about last night," she said. As she got closer Ginny saw dark circles under her eyes. It looked like she hadn't slept at all. Perhaps she'd had more trouble sleeping because of Justin Finch-Fletchley's disappearance. "I've been doing some research since we got home. I haven't found anything."

"Yeah, she never even came to bed," Ron said somberly. Waving away his concern Hermione focused on Ginny again.

"Did Harry say anything to you after we left?" Her hopeful expression vanished when Ginny shook her head.

"What have you been reading?" Ginny asked, looking at the book now sitting on the table.

"I've been reading up on the Dark Mark. I'm sure Voldemort just used a Protean Charm but as it was obviously dark magic you never know what side effects it could have had. I want to know if there was anything in that charm or the spell used to cast it that could cause Harry's scar to bleed. This is the only time I wish I had more information on dark magic here." Hermione ran her hand over the embossed cover of her book. "I don't know if we'll find an easy answer to this though. I mean its not as if Harry's situation is common, is it?"

There was no arguing with that point.

"If you don't have any new information why are you here?" Ron questioned a minute later.

"I hoped you'd have found something. Not only is his scar bleeding again, it was red also. I don't know if you saw that last night."

Hermione and Ron both nodded, their expressions becoming more troubled.

Ron collected himself first and set to making tea. Ginny sat at the table with Hermione and began thumbing through some floral samples that had been left on the table, not taking in any details. Soon a cup of tea was set in front of her and Ron's strangely hopeful voice cut through the fog that had crowded her mind.

"There's an obvious explanation for what happened that we haven't considered."

"What's that?" Ginny asked, feeling just slightly hopeful that her brother might have stumbled onto a simple answer. It was uncommon, but had been known to happen.

"He Apparated home, right? Could he not have just Splinched himself?"

"On his scar only?" Hermione asked skeptically. "Just a little odd and too coincidental, don't you think?"

"Hey, I once left half an eyebrow, remember? If I'd just seen the Dark Mark and I was Harry . . . "

Ginny hated to erase the hopeful expressions off Ron and Hermione's faces but it had been Hermione who pointed out the very thing that disproved Ron's theory.

"First of all, he's never Splinched himself before. I doubt he would have last night. Second, if that had been the case the Dittany would have worked."

Ron rebounded almost at once. "But maybe because of the curse that made the scar –"

"Dittany worked on it before," Ginny replied quietly. "When he was in St. Mungo's after . . . everything in Godric's Hollow." Suddenly she couldn't say Voldemort's name aloud. It was the most ridiculous idea but it seemed like history was repeating itself. Once before the world had thought Voldemort was dead. Mere months after the Dark Mark appeared the Dark Lord did as well.

But I saw Harry kill him, she thought to herself. The first time had been different: Voldemort had still had his Horcruxes. When Harry cast the Avada Kedavra it had hit him and there were no Horcruxes anymore. Ginny refused to believe that Dumbledore and Harry were wrong about the number of times Voldemort had split his soul. If there were any possibility of his return why would Harry have lost those powers?

"I need to know why this happened. We all do," Hermione said. "There are no answers to be found here. I'm going to need to go into work early. Maybe I can find out what they know about Justin. Ron, please tell your mum I'm sorry. Can you tell her we'll get together to discuss the wedding another day?"

"I'm coming with you," Ginny said before Ron could answer. She jumped to her feet and waited for Hermione to do the same. She'd been thinking about going to the Ministry all morning but after what had taken place last night she didn't want to chance getting turned away before she had the opportunity to talk with Briony. Hermione could go and do her research and have her meeting with the Aurors and Ginny would pursue her own line of inquiry.

"I don't know what it's going to be like there today. They might not even let me in after last night, Ginny. Besides Harry's probably immersed in meetings. He might not have time –"

"Its not Harry I want to see," Ginny replied with such a finality to her tone that the others said nothing else. She waited while Hermione got read then they, accompanied by Dawlish, walked outside and Apparated to the Ministry.

She hadn't given any thought to what it would be like when they arrived in the atrium. Finding it nearly empty though was a shock. There were four people standing guard around the memorial (one at each corner). Upon seeing the new arrivals they each turned to face the place where Dawlish, Hermione and Ginny were standing. As one they raised their wands.

"The Ministry is closed to visitors," the guard nearest them said.

"Only one of us is a visitor," Dawlish said gesturing to Ginny. "And I'm sure both the Minister and Mad-Eye won't take issue with her being here. Call them down if you wish."

With a small pop the Auror Ginny recognized as Alastrina Goodwin disappeared. She was gone for a grand total of a minute. When she returned it was with a tall dark figure: Kingsley. He also had his wand out. Ginny dearly wished she had her own wand in hand, but dared not reach for it.

"Minister," Dawlish said. "We are here at Miss. Granger's request."

He would have gone on but Kingsley held up his hand.

"They came to get me as a precaution but we have activated the concealment detectors. If you three were disguised at all we'd already know." Kingsley seemed to be speaking particularly to the four Aurors. It was only now Ginny realized they were all members of Harry's training group: Goodwin, Ghandi, O'Hara and Rossi. The latter winked at her when she looked at him. Ginny glared at him until he looked away. Apparently botching up his job and allowing Justin to be captured did nothing to increase his modesty.

"It is not only the goblins who make use of the Thief's Downfall. Most wizarding establishments of any importance have implemented extra security since the second war with Voldemort. So why are you two here?" Kingsley asked. "After last evening the only people who want to set foot here are reporters."

After a minute Ginny was the one to explain the reason for her visit. Kingsley's only reaction was to nod. From his expression Ginny was sure he had been expecting just this sort of thing.

"While Hermione's busy with research I was hoping to speak with Briony."

"Briony?" Kingsley and Hermione asked at the same time.

"Yes," Ginny replied. As far as she knew Briony was the only other person who knew about Harry's reaction the previous evening. Perhaps there was something that she had noticed about Harry that could help explain what had caused his scar to bleed, something Harry hadn't already told her.

"All right," Kingsley said, leading her to the lifts. "They're upstairs. No unauthorized personnel are allowed so I'll have to accompany you."

He must have sensed that Ginny wasn't in the mood to talk because Kingsley said nothing at all until they stepped out of the lift. He led her into a small room that was obviously used for interrogations.

"Would you like me to tell Harry you're here?"

"No," Ginny replied quickly. Harry wouldn't like the fact she was pursuing this issue. "I'd prefer he didn't know that I was here."

Kingsley nodded and closed the door. Ginny took the time to think about the impending exchange with Briony as she waited.

She'd only met Briony once at the Leaky Cauldron. Though she seemed honest enough and Harry had been overly forthcoming about Briony since the night they'd fought about her, the idea of meeting with her again and alone wasn't all that alluring.

Ginny had her back to the door when she heard it open. Turning slowly she saw Briony edging in, looking positively fearful. Ginny couldn't really blame her. Harry was always sporting that phrase that she scared him. Did Briony believe that? Had Harry told her about Ginny's reaction when she first found out that he hadn't mentioned her? Did Briony think she was about to be attacked? Ginny didn't doubt she'd soon have answers to these questions.

"Hello, Briony," she said unintentionally drawing herself up to full height.

"Hello." The trepidation in Briony's voice was more than enough to show her feelings. Ginny didn't need to see the wand she was twisting in her hands to know that the girl was a unicorn's hair away from fainting.

"Do you know why I wanted to talk to you?"

Briony shook her head looking genuinely unaware. Feeling a little pleased at this, Ginny spoke again. "You saw Harry last night, correct?"

"Yes. When he first came back."

"And you saw him again before you left."

Briony's shock was ill disguised. Her mouth hung open just a little and she stopped twirling her wand, instead clinging to it as if it was her lifeline. Ginny fixed her with an intense stare until Briony nodded.

"Did you notice anything odd about him or his behaviour before he left?" She waited with baited breath for Briony's answer. It was disappointing when it came.

"No. Well, his scar was bleeding of course." She seemed even shiftier than before. Ginny was immediately on alert.

"You didn't see anything else odd? Perhaps someone you didn't recognize? Did he maybe take a drink of something? Get hit by a stray spell? I know the Ministry was full of people last night. D'you think he might have been hit with a spell?"

"By the time Harry arrived here," Briony said coldly, "we had already secured the area. Anyone who should not have been there, or who was attempting to perform dark magic would have been detected at once."

Ginny had been afraid of that ever since Kingsley had mentioned that they had activated concealment detection charms.

"What about a Ministry employee? D'you think that maybe one of them . . . and they knew how to get around the detection spells?"

"There is no way to get around the spells. I don't like your insinuations and neither, I am sure, will the Minister. If your sole purpose for coming here was to make unfounded accusations we have nothing more to say to each other. Good day, Miss Weasley."

Ginny stared in shock at Briony as she made her way to the door. She obviously had strong feelings about this issue. With everything Harry had told her about Briony, Ginny hadn't thought the girl capable of such a strong stance. She'd have thought that Harry was exaggerating about Briony's shyness but for two things: her father had agreed with Harry, and the last time she'd met the girl her behaviour had been much closer to the other reports Ginny had heard. This reaction raised more questions than it answered.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you Briony. I am merely trying to find out what caused Harry's scar to bleed. Anything you could do to help would be appreciated. Any information you can give us might help. Can you think of anything suspicious?" Ginny started speaking normally but sped up as Briony neared the door. She needn't have done so for the other girl did not leave. She stopped but didn't turn back to face Ginny. It looked like she was battling with herself over something, whether it was the desire to leave or to recall something that could help was unclear. Ginny had to restrain herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"I know nothing that can help you. I'm sorry," was Briony's reply. She swept from the room so fast she could have Disapparated. Ginny's expectant feeling took some time to abate, leaving her suspicions. It seemed that Briony knew a hell of a lot more than she was willing to let on. The question was now how to get that information from her. Today was obviously a wash. Perhaps speaking with Hermione could help. With this thought in mind Ginny set off to find her friend.

When they met again an hour later Hermione was none the wiser. She was constantly rubbing her eyes, both from tiredness and frustration it seemed. Ginny wasted no time telling her about the encounter with Briony. Hermione conceded that her behaviour was a little odd, but she had an entirely different view of matters.

"Ron told me what your dad said to Harry. Do you not think it more likely she was just nervous that you were there? If its true that she does have those sorts of feelings for him, as shy as she is . . . and with the fame that both you and Harry have . . . If I didn't know the two of you I'd probably behave oddly too," Hermione paused and took a sip of her tea. "Not everything that happens to Harry is the result of some grand scheme."

"Yes, you're right. But you weren't there, Hermione. I've been around those types of girls a lot. This was different. She knows something about last night. I know it."

Hermione remained unconvinced. Ginny was frustrated with her reaction. She had a sudden and unpleasant understanding of what Harry had gone trough all those times people (including herself) hadn't listened to him. After spending a few more hours with Ron and Hermione she returned to Harry's flat, hoping he'd be back.

No one was there. Ginny didn't know what to do while she waited. She tried to read, to watch television, to tidy up, but the only thing her mind would focus on was the scene from the night before and the possible causes for it. The frustrating thing about this fixation was that it was not getting her anywhere at all. It was a relief when Harry returned just after eight. He looked exhausted but otherwise completely back to his normal self.

"So you haven't found out anything about what happened to Justin?" she asked as they were eating some of Molly's latest package of food: roast chicken, potatoes, and steamed broccoli.

"No. If it hadn't been for Rossi being stunned we would probably think he just Disapparated. I guess we can't rule it out entirely but I can't see him wanting to be rid of his guard so much that he'd be able to stun Rossi."

"And what could they possibly want with Justin? Yes he's Muggle-born, but . . . " Ginny trailed off. Maybe this was what Briony knew. But then why would she not tell someone? If they could catch the person who was responsible maybe they could save Justin. Without delay she confessed everything to Harry about her visit and her suspicions about Briony. As her story came to a close he was wearing an amused grin.

"What?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"My little investigator," Harry said, continuing to wear that same ridiculous smile. His reaction angered her, most especially because he obviously wasn't taking her seriously. She glared at him until the smile slipped from his face. He took a deep breath before starting to talk.

"I appreciate what you were trying to do, Gin, but my scar – its nothing to worry about, really. As for Briony," he continued when Ginny tried to object. "She doesn't know anything more than the rest of us. She's been working just as hard as any of us on this case. Why would she hide anything? Besides she's a friend. If she noticed anything odd that would have caused my scar to start bleeding again she'd have told me."

"Unless she's involved in it," Ginny said under her breath. "You've known her for four months, Harry. What makes you so sure she's not as devious as her aunt? Maybe she's – _what_?"

Harry was fighting a smile again, making her temper flare.

"Maybe Hermione was onto something. You're jealous of her."

"No I'm not."

Harry wasn't convinced by her denial. He was chuckling under his breath. Some placating statement was coming Ginny was sure. He was going to tell her she had no reason to be jealous. That was good because jealously was one of the emotions she was not feeling just now.

"I don't have anything to be concerned with, do I?" she asked.

"Of course not." It was Harry's turn to sound a little miffed.

"Good. Let's get back to the matter at hand. Why are you refusing to take me seriously?"

"Because you're way off the mark here, Ginny. Briony has nothing to do with what happened last night." He was playing with the last morsel of food on his plate rather than looking at her. Harry clearly did not want to discuss the matter any more. Ginny wasn't going to press the issue too much further but she wondered if Harry hadn't been quite so forthcoming as she'd thought. Maybe Briony had already done something to arouse his suspicion.

"You're saying she'd never done anything to make you doubt her?" she asked with a quizzically raised eyebrow. Harry didn't answer, but Ginny hadn't expected him to. Standing up she waved her wand and their supper dishes flew into the sink and started cleaning themselves. "All I'm saying is to watch out for her."

They spent the rest of their evening in an uncomfortable silence, retiring a few hours after Harry got home.

When Ginny opened her eyes the following morning she thought it was still the middle of the night for the darkness. She fumbled for the alarm and saw that it was just after eight a.m. She heard a steady tap on the window and saw that it was raining rather heavily.

"Morning," Harry said in a less than pleased voice. He was lying beside her, arms folded over his chest. Only his head had turned to bid her good morning.

"Morning. How long have you been awake?" Ginny asked, tentatively.

"Long enough to find out they're leaving me out of investigations again." Ginny realized the tone she'd been unable to recognize earlier had been bitterness.

"Why?" She sat up and reached for her wand to turn on a light. "Is it because of what happened the other night?"

"No idea," Harry replied flatly. "All I know is that Moody Flooed and said I wasn't needed today and that I should get some _rest_."

Ginny bit back a few words of comfort that she was going to offer because a thought was beginning to form in her mind. Could her inquiry the previous day have anything to do with this? If she was right and Briony was up to something, or knew something, maybe she had done this. Though she wasn't an Auror herself she was a friend of Tougas who was still Harry's supervisor. If Harry had been getting close to something that needed to be kept hidden would it be beyond Briony to do something to Harry to keep him away?

The answer was no. Hadn't it been Briony's aunt who had very nearly used the Cruciatus curse on Harry to try and get him to divulge the identity of the person he'd contacted in her fire? Maybe she wasn't as different from her Aunt Dolores as she claimed.

They sat in silence for a time. Ginny could tell that Harry was in such a mood that if she said the wrong thing they'd end up in an argument, the very last thing she wanted.

"I guess we'll have some time together this weekend after all," Harry said finally. He chanced a glance out the window. "But it looks like we're staying in today."

"Yeah," she replied, still gauging Harry's mood. When he stopped studying the sky and turned back to her he was smiling. It was a little too hearty to be completely genuine, but at least he was trying.

They toyed with the idea of paying a visit to the Burrow, but both decided against it. Neither felt like spending time assuring Molly that all was well. The same held true for a visit to Ron and Hermione's. So it was that they spent a good part of that blustery Sunday watching old Muggle movies. Ginny found she'd grown to like them from her days in Muggle studies. They were deeply engrossed in an old horror film when the door to the flat opened and Dudley entered, soaking wet.

"Oh, hi," he said, seeing Harry and Ginny sitting on the sofa. His teeth were chattering and Ginny could see was shaking. Given how wet he was it was hardly surprising. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Funny, seeing as how this is my flat," Harry replied. He was frowning. At first Ginny thought it was because of the pool of water that was gathering below Dudley, but she found she wasn't correct when Harry asked his next question of his cousin. "I haven't seen you since Thursday night. Where've you been, Dudley?"

Ginny turned to see Dudley's reaction. She hadn't even realized that he wasn't in the flat. It was hardly surprising though. After everything that had happened with Harry, the last person she was going to worry about was his cousin. Harry had asked an interesting question though. If Dudley really hadn't been there for at least two days where had he been? People who beg accommodations from their relatives because they have nowhere else to go usually don't disappear for two days.

Dudley, rather than simply answering the question, put on an affronted air. Ginny could easily see he wasn't as indignant as he was trying to be though. She thought she saw a flicker of fear in his expression. When she looked again he was just looking annoyed.

"Not that it's really any of your business, but I was with Keelie and Brenna." He was looking particularly at Harry as he said this. "They said to say hi."

Ginny saw Harry grimace. The names were obviously familiar to him, but distasteful. She was on the verge of asking who those girls were when something in his expression reminded her of that week old Daily Prophet story. Unless she was much mistaken one of those two girls was in that photo.

After the events on Friday night that Prophet story had been driven from Ginny's mind completely. She couldn't say she was sad about that either. Colin had convinced her not to jump to conclusions, but it wasn't exactly a dream conversation to discuss your boyfriend's night out with two other girls.

"He's lying," Harry said as Dudley strode past them and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"How do you know that?" Ginny asked.

"I can't see him spending a whole weekend with those two –" Harry stopped and looked at her worriedly. Ginny said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "About that, Gin. I swear that nothing happened. We'd just come back from Ron and Hermione's. Dudley asked me to go with him. I had no idea that any of that would happen. You believe me, right?"

In another circumstance his last question would have had the exact opposite effect of its intention, but the fervent way he related the details of the encounter seemed sincere. He hadn't looked pleased in that photo. Besides, Harry wasn't exactly known for his ability to disguise his emotions. Slowly she nodded, remembering she wanted to ask him about his expression in that photo.

"What about that night makes you so sure he's lying now?" she asked again.

"It wouldn't be the first time. When we were there last weekend Brenna asked him where he'd been the previous night and he lied to her about it. I have no idea why. Now he's lying to us. Even though its Dudley, I don't think he's doing it for no reason. He's hiding something and I'm going to find out what it is."

Ginny said nothing. Dudley's absence was highly suspicious and Harry was right to wonder at it. If only he'd be as proactive when it came to Briony though.


	10. The Missing MuggleBorn

The information that the task force received regarding the supposed attack on Buckingham Palace was false, that had become clear the minute they discovered the Dark Mark in the Ministry. This had given the task force the jurisdiction to take on the investigation of its appearance on the memorial. On Saturday Harry had been fool enough to think that finally he might be allowed to do more than listen to what the others were doing. When Moody contacted him the following morning and told him they had everything under control and didn't need him it had been very near impossible to keep his temper. Why did they still have him doing nothing? He intended to speak with Moody about it Monday morning. If he wasn't going to be afforded the opportunity to do anything there was hardly a reason for him to remain part of the task force.

"Ah, Potter, just the person I've been looking for," Moody called the minute Harry stepped off the lifts. He'd just been to visit Hermione and see how she was handling Justin's disappearance. "Brazill tells me she wants to run a few things by you on the Finch-Fletchley disappearance. She's been looking all over for you."

"I was just down on that floor. Could she not have approached me down there?" Harry asked irritably.

"Not when she's in the briefing room waiting for you."

"Oh." Immediately feeling sheepish about his outburst Harry started to offer apologies but Moody was already stumping away, grumbling about how he was never going to do a favor for Kingsley again.

Brazill held up a tiny phial the minute he stepped in the door.

"You ever seen anything like this?" she asked. Harry came closer and saw the phial contained about a quarter inch of a sickly yellow substance. Taking the phial from Brazill, Harry examined it.

"No," he said truthfully, though he felt there was something odd about this substance. Harry tilted it back and forth. Whatever it was, the yellowish liquid was very thick and gloopy, and moved slowly. Harry felt the strangest sense of déjà vu. Where had he seen this in his past?

Then it hit him. Once before he'd seen a memory that was very reluctant to part company with its phial: Slughorn's modified Horcrux memory. The sickly yellow hue proved this wasn't a memory, but unless he was completely off base, this substance was gathered most unwillingly.

"Where'd you get this?"

"Schultz and I found it near Justin Finch-Fletchley's desk last night." Brazill was quiet for a minute. "We're guessing its his. I've never seen anyone secrete anything like this from any orifice even with all the ghastly diseases that witches and wizards contract. No, we think this was extracted from him by force. If so, we can completely rule out his leaving voluntarily."

"Any guesses at all as to what it is?" The look Brazill gave him made Harry sure she knew what he had just been thinking.

"Seems like some sort of memory, doesn't it? We wanted to check with everyone on the task force before we went outside the department for confirmation. You've seen some pretty strange things in your time, Potter. I admit that you were my best hope. Since you don't know we're probably going to have to go outside the department for confirmation." She took the phial back and put it in her pocket. When it was safely tucked away she looked at Harry again and did the familiar flick up to his scar. "How're you doing?"

"Fine. Just hoping to do something today rather than read reports," he replied quickly, not willing to let the conversation get any nearer his scar or its amazing bleeding trick.

"We've all been there," Brazill said sympathetically. "It's always so much harder on a big case like this to sit back and do nothing while the others get all the apparent glory. I'll see what I can do, shall I?"

Harry thanked her but didn't get his hopes up. Tougas would love to see him stuck in a cubicle all the time, and Moody had been the one who ordered him not to come in yesterday. With such reactions from his supervisor and the head of the department Harry knew Brazill's chances of getting him out of report hell were minimal at best.

The other members of the team strolled in slowly over the next few minutes, the only absent member being Dawlish. A new edict had been passed down over the weekend. All Muggle-borns were to be guarded at all times, even at the Ministry. Though it was a little late to save Justin, Harry was glad the policy had been changed. Due to the change though, Dawlish would not be attending many meetings. Just when they needed all hands on deck they were down a member. The irony was not lost on Harry.

One thing to be said for the events of Friday evening was that there was plenty to go over in the meeting. Brazill passed around the phial but, as she had predicted, no one had any better idea of what they were looking at with, perhaps, the exception of Briony. When the phial was handed to her so she could pass it over to Tougas she stared down at it for several seconds. Harry was almost positive he saw comprehension in her expression.

"Briony?" Tougas was holding out his hand and watching her with concern, not the impatience he would have had for anyone else. She handed it to him with a sheepish smile. She caught Harry's eye before returning to her copious note taking. The look she gave him showed no recognition at all. How could she really know anything more than anyone else? His suspicion must have come from Ginny, Harry realized.

"The Ministry wasn't empty. Someone had to notice something," Moody stated, passing the phial to Schultz. "Keep on with your interviews Brazil, while Schultz gets this phial analyzed."

"Yes, sir," Brazill paused, winked at Harry and then added one last thing before Moody could move on to Tougas who was partnering with Tressa Hyde, trying to find out who had cast the Dark Mark and any connection it had to Justin's disappearance. "I'd like to have Potter along with me if that's all right, Mad-Eye."

This request raised some eyebrows, but Togas was the most vociferous about it.

"We haven't ruled out his involvement – _excuse me_ – connection to this case and you want to have him with you as you question potential witnesses? Doesn't that seem unorthodox, and potentially damaging to our case?"

"I had nothing to do with the Dark Mark's appearance, or Justin's disappearance," Harry stated vehemently.

"Don't worry, Potter. Tougas is the only person who thinks you do," Moody stated, fixing his real eye on Tougas. "You don't have any pressing work, do you Potter?"

"No, sir."

"Very well. Brazill you can have him. You should take notes though, Potter. Brazill is one of our best interrogators. You could learn a thing or two from her."

"Thank you. I will." It had been such a long shot that even though he knew she was going to try, the fact Brazill had succeeded in getting him out of another torturous day of paperwork made Harry want to kiss her.

They all had work to do so there was no tarrying in the briefing room, as had become standard of late. Brazill, indeed, was in such a hurry that Harry had a hard time keeping up with her. In his haste to remain by her side he did not have an opportunity to speak with Briony about her reaction to that phial. There would be time later . . . hopefully.

"We're going to be questioning the members of Finch-Fletchley's department. I think it best you only observe when I talk with Hermione Granger."

"Of course."

As they rode down to the sixth floor, Brazill quizzed Harry on the sort of questions they should ask.

"Do you think that knowing what they were doing Friday night is really going to help when they were all gone?" she challenged.

"They _supposedly_ left. We already know that Justin was here when he was supposed to be gone. Then there was the group that was leaving when the Dark Mark was discovered. Who's to say one of them wasn't involved?"

Brazill was nodding, with a small smile on her face. "I like the way you think, Potter."

As they walked onto the sixth floor Harry was immediately struck by the wall of silence that met them. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but coming from his floor where it was more hectic than he'd ever seen it the change was quite perceptible. It was like they were already at Justin's wake, that they already assumed he was dead. As Harry and Brazill walked through the halls people would glance at them and then quickly look away.

"We'll start with your friend, Hermione, shall we?" Brazill asked. Harry had no objections to this suggestion and so he returned with Brazill to an office he'd left not so long ago.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up from her work as he and Brazill stepped into her office. "I didn't expect to see you here again."

"He's just here as an observer, Miss Granger. Do you mind if I ask you some questions about your colleague, Justin Finch-Fletchley?"

Hermione, who had been watching Brazill as she spoke, turned to look at Harry, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Of – of course," she stammered. "Anything I can do to help find him . . . "

An uncomfortable silence met Hermione's words. He wasn't sure what the others were thinking, but Harry felt that only a miracle would allow them to find Justin alive. From the slight frown she wore, Brazill seemed to think the same thing but she put on a brave face.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Do you recall when you last saw Mr. Finch-Fletchley?" Suddenly Brazill was all business. She had pulled a quill and parchment from the inside pocket of her robes and set it to float in the air as it waited for Hermione to start talking.

"It was just before I left for the day," Hermione said, sitting up in her chair and trying to look confident. "I remember it specifically because Dawlish an I were just leaving when we saw Justin sneaking back in. I asked him what he was doing and he looked at me like I was a traitor for leaving. He darted into his office and wouldn't come out. Both Dawlish and I pleaded with him until Rossi appeared and said he would take over. We assumed he'd be more successful."

"How did he look to you? Worried? Scared? Otherwise Upset? Ill?"

"He looked annoyed, to be honest," Hermione admitted. "We have a lot to do in this latest campaign against –" she looked down at her desk for a second, wearing a frown. She had grown to loathe Dolores Umbridge even more since working to undo all the wrongs that had been perpetrated at that woman's hand. This was certainly not the time to get into that discussion. Hermione glossed over the distraction and continued. "We've been working really hard. Justin wasn't impressed with Kingsley's order to leave for the night. If I'd have known what was going to happen I would have . . . "

"I'm sure you did your best to get him to leave," Brazill said sympathetically. She waited until Hermione looked up and then asked another question. "Have you noticed any changes in Justin's behaviour? Was it common for him to be so annoyed?"

"He's been stressed lately, but so have we all. I don't know if I'd say he was acting unduly aggravated though."

Harry looked from Hermione to Brazill, not really shocked at what he was hearing. Hermione had volunteered the information when he had first come to see her that morning. Admittedly he couldn't recall Justin's scholarly pursuits at Hogwarts, so Harry couldn't attest to whether he was always obsessed with his work, but Hermione said he was, and she would know best.

"Has he been ill recently?" Brazill questioned, frowning at her parchment. "Been away from the Ministry? Spent any time at St. Mungo's? Had any ill relatives that you know of?"

"I – I don't know. What could this possibly have to do with Justin's disappearance? He was certainly in good enough health when I left him here Friday evening. I thought that you had already concluded that Justin didn't leave on his own." She turned to fix an accusing glare on Harry, who was following Moody's orders and merely observing. He, of course, knew Brazill was trying to find an explanation for that mysterious substance they believed belonged to Justin. Rather than chance revealing something he shouldn't, Harry gave her an encouraging nod.

"Well, you're not likely to find any explanation for his disappearance other than kidnap. He was bound and determined to remain here for the entire weekend to finish his report. If he left, it was not by choice." Hermione was trying to keep her voice even, but it was shaking just a little, whether out of temper or emotion was anyone's guess.

"We're just making sure that we don't miss anything. One last question for you, Miss. Granger, if you wouldn't mind?" Without waiting for Hermione to answer, Brazill asked, "What was the nature of the report that Mr. Finch-Fletchley was working on?"

"We're working to repeal the laws put in place by Dolores Umbridge that prevent werewolves from gaining fruitful employment. Its hardly a law worth kidnapping or killing over."

Harry wasn't sure he agreed with Hermione. There were plenty of witches and wizards who would be more than happy to leave the law exactly as it was. There was an unfortunate number of people in the magical world, whether Death Eater or not, who would be more than willing to kill to protect their purity of wizarding blood, and to keep werewolves in their place. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were two of the likeliest candidates.

"He didn't mention anything about people sending in complaints about his work, or threats to his person, or otherwise?"

When Hermione shook her head Brazill rolled up her parchment, thanked her for the time and started to leave. Hermione asked Harry to stay for a minute. He didn't move, unsure of whether Brazill would wait. She subtly tapped her watch, telling him to make it quick, and then left the office.

"You don't really think that he could have left on his own, do you?" Hermione asked the minute the door swung shut. "I swear to you that it would have taken God himself to get Justin to leave."

She seemed quite desperate for Harry to believe her. If he had any doubts about what Hermione knew before she spoke they had certainly been nullified. The pleading expression that she was wearing made him want to tell her everything they knew. There was still that mysterious person leaking information though. Harry didn't really think it telling Hermione would be a danger, but the more people who knew about their investigation, the less confidential their investigation became. Instead of telling her everything, he said:

"Brazill's just being thorough, Hermione. We're exploring every possibility. We'll – have more answers as soon as we can." He' wanted to say we'll find him, but he wasn't sure they would. If they were right and the Dark Mark and Justin's disappearance were the work of Malfoy and Lestrange he doubted they would ever find Justin. It certainly wouldn't be the first time the Death Eaters had been responsible for the disappearance of a person.

"Please do your best," Hermione said, coming around her desk and hugging Harry. "I don't think anyone here will be able to rest until we know what's happened to him."

Hermione's words were repeated over and over again as Harry and Brazill questioned Justin's coworkers. For all the good it did them they might as well have stopped after talking to Hermione. Everyone agreed that Justin Finch-Fletchley was a man obsessed. Perhaps he had a bad experience with Umbridge and was using this campaign to take his vengeance. The fact he was a Muggle-born could not have endeared Justin to her when she was teaching at Hogwarts. Other than this random theory, they could find no connection, questionable or not, to the hard work Justin was putting in and his disappearance.

They returned to their own floor several hours later, feeling beleaguered and despondent over their lack of success. Schultz met them in the briefing room, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"You've found something?" Brazill asked, throwing her quill and parchment on the table, all signs of weariness gone. Schultz pulled her own sheaf of parchment out and set it down on the table next to the phial of yellow liquid.

"According to my source this is fear," she said.

"Fear?" both Harry and Brazill asked.

"Yes. Apparently the Department of Mysteries has been having a right old time researching the manipulation of emotions. This –" Schultz held up the phial " – is what fear looks like outside the body."

"I didn't know that humans secreted a substance when they're frightened. Why've we never seen it before?" Brazill questioned.

"We don't secrete it. This was forcibly removed. The girl I talked with from the D.O.M. emphasized that withdrawal of this substance in their tests lead to irreparable mental and psychological damage. This, she said –" again Schultz shook the phial " – very likely came from our missing Muggle-born. If it did, she said he'd be best off dead."

"Damned monsters," Brazill growled, shuffling her parchment. "Why the bloody hell would anyone want to extract fear from someone else? If they want to control them they've got the Unforgivable Curses."

"They need it for a potion is my guess," Harry said when both women looked at him for his input. It seemed like an ingredient in some dark potions.

"What sort of potion would require a measure of fear?" Schultz asked.

"A dark one," Brazill replied. "Did that D.O.M. contact have any theories as to possible usage?"

Schultz shook her head. "She would only say that they've very recently started studying emotions. They've not yet determined any possible uses."

"I don't know if we'd even want to know. Perhaps it was better we didn't know what they got up to," Brazill said. "This research is a little too like dark magic for me."

Harry agreed wholeheartedly. He hadn't given a great deal of thought to the research Briony had been doing. If he had, he knew he would have been more concerned about the implications of such experiments. With the effects of extracting fear that he had heard Schultz talk about, Harry knew that this was precisely the type of information they didn't want Death Eaters to have.

The task force had split up after their meeting that morning. Before anyone left for the day they got together again to discuss any new developments. When Schultz revealed what she had learned the room seemed to freeze. Everyone remained deadly silent; the only movement was the shifting of heads as they turned to examine the shocked and incredulous looks on their neighbor's faces. The only person not displaying emotion was Briony. She was sitting still as a statue, her skin about the same colour as granite.

"What about you?" Moody asked eventually, his scar-covered face had hardened into an angry expression as he turned to face Tougas. "Any news on who cast that Dark Mark?"

Not surprisingly Tougas and Hyde were as successful in collecting useful information as Harry and Brazill had been.

"We see one of two possibilities," Tougas said. "The mark was cast by Malfoy and Lestrange, who also abducted Finch-Fletchley and cast it to send us a message. If that's the case we need to tighten security even more. Finch-Fletchley's abduction was merely one of opportunity. Alternatively, this could have been an inside job."

The exact reverse reaction occurred as when Schultz made her announcement. The room erupted in protest. Like the others, Harry didn't want to think about either possibility. Death Eaters had been in the Ministry before, but there were supposed to be better security measures in place now. Even more troubling though was the idea that someone within the Ministry had cast the mark. It would make it that much harder to catch them. It would also lead the investigation of the task force in a whole other direction, one that was thoroughly unpleasant to contemplate.

"There were people in and out of the atrium all night. There wouldn't have been an opportunity to cast it," Brazill said angrily.

"Yet it was cast. Explain that, " Tougas retorted. He looked around the table, as if waiting for challenges to his theory. Eventually he turned to look at Harry, his expression accusatory. "Of course there was one person who was gone from our sight long enough to cast the mark. How hard would it have been for someone with an invisibility cloak to avoid detection?"

A thousand thoughts ran through Harry's mind as Tougas was speaking. No one would believe that he had cast the Dark Mark. Tougas was just trying to goad him.

"You know that I went home. You Flooed me there, remember? I didn't even set foot in the atrium until you told me to come back." He was grinning at the ludicrousness of Tougas's theory.

"Disapparation can't be tracked. There is no way for us to tell if you went straight home or not."

"Tougas get over it," Brazill snapped. "What type of dragon dung have you been smelling that would allow you to consider the idea that Harry Potter would cast the Dark Mark? What would his motive possibly be?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

Brazill huffed, threw down her quill, sat back in her chair and, in a thickly sarcastic tone, turned to Harry. "All right, Potter, explain to us why you, the person who rid the world of You-Know-Who, would cast the Dark Mark on a memorial honoring his victims."

"I didn't. You know I wouldn't do that," he said, feeling a trifle amused at Brazill's annoyance, but annoyed as well at Tougas's insistence he was involved. They were using time that could be better spent on actual leads. "I went home and then came straight back when Tougas Flooed me. Besides that, I shouldn't have to spend time explaining why I wouldn't cast the Dark Mark."

"You shouldn't," Brazill agreed. "We're wasting time talking about this, Tougas. We should –"

"Who else had the opportunity?" Tougas interrupted.

"I did."

Her voice was so low that more than one person looked around before landing on Briony. She, however, was looking at Tougas. "I was out filing those reports for ten minutes before Goodwin came running up here. I had more than enough time to get down to the atrium and cast it. Are you going to question me now?"

Tougas's mouth opened slightly. He was shocked but trying to hide it. Everyone waited to see what he was going to say.

"Well, do you suspect me?" Briony asked again, sounding cross.

"I . . . no, I don't," Tougas admitted quietly and in a sulky voice, looking down at his parchment.

"We have a resolution, then?" Moody asked, not betraying any emotion. He dismissed them all, telling them to go home and get some rest, they were likely going to need it over the coming weeks. As he got up to leave Harry thought he heard Moody tell Tougas to see him first thing in the morning. With the clamoring of the others as they began to file out of the room he couldn't be sure though. Tougas hurried past him and disappeared after Briony – probably to berate her for what she said. Harry shook his head at Tougas's behaviour.

"You seem in an awful hurry," Brazill said, following Harry back to his cubicle. As he pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and put it on she asked, "big plans with Ginny this evening?"

"No," Harry said abruptly. He had no intentions of telling anyone what he was up to. This would involve revealing things that he would rather not become general knowledge. Brazill smiled weakly, looking tired, but she didn't press Harry for details.

"Enjoy whatever it is you're doing. Don't give Tougas any more reason to suspect you." She turned and started to go, saying only, "Good work today, Potter."

Harry waited for her to disappear before he rapidly made his way to the Apparition area and twisted into compression and darkness.

When he was next able to draw breath, Harry was standing in a dark alley that smelled strongly of urine. Trying hard not to breathe too deeply, Harry made his way to the street cursing the fact he was in Muggle London and couldn't light his wand.

Exiting the alley, Harry stood on the very street that he had Dudley had come down together not so long ago. He walked past people who were lined up, waiting for admittance. He searched for Dudley among the line, but wasn't surprised at his absence. He'd got the impression that Dudley was not a patron who waited in line at this club. He had set his hopes higher when it came to finding Keelie or Brenna. He wasn't particularly anxious to speak with either of them again, but they seemed to spend a lot of time with Dudley. Harry wanted to confirm his suspicions that Dudley hadn't actually been with the two girls this weekend. It was as good a starting point as any.

Neither girl was in the line either, meaning that Harry was going to have to go in, something that he was even less enthusiastic about, not only because he might have to use magic to do it. He berated himself for forgetting his invisibility cloak at home.

"Can I help you?" A burly doorman asked, eyeing Harry as though suspecting him of some wrongdoing. Harry decided to try with a straightforward request first.

"Yes. I was hoping to get in and speak with –"

The guard let out a noise the likes of which Harry had never heard before. He growled but the expression he wore was that of amusement as though he had heard a good joke.

"D'you see that line there?" The guard pointed to all the people Harry had just walked past. "They were here first. You can go in after they do." He held his arm out, pointing to the end of the line.

Harry applied what he hoped was a convincing look of acceptance to his face and turned slightly away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the guard watching, but the other was busy with a couple of very insistent girls and hadn't heard any of the exchange.

"Confundo," Harry whispered under his breath, stealthily pointing his wand at the guard. His spell hit right on target and he saw the guard blink and look around in confusion. He seized the moment, walking confidently past the large man, and patted him on the arm, saying, "thanks. You've no idea how much I appreciate this."

"You're welcome," the guard said, sounding confused. Harry didn't want to press his luck so he walked into the building as quickly as he could without actually running.

Everything was dark when Harry entered and it took a moment for him to adjust. He didn't' want to spend more time here than necessary, so at once set off to find Dudley, or Keelie and Brenna.

The club was packed with more people than Harry remembered from the last time. As he squeezed through the crowds he couldn't help but marvel at how many people were here on a weeknight. These were likely people like Dudley who didn't have jobs or other commitments. After several minutes and more than one apology for knocking into someone, it was Keelie who called out to Harry.

"What are you doing here?" she asked an excited gleam in her eyes. "We thought that you wouldn't be back after the way you flew out last time."

"Yeah, well . . . " Harry looked over her, straining for a sight of Dudley's blonde head. If he were to believe his cousin, Dudley would not be far away from anywhere Keelie and Brenna were.

Someone knocked into Harry as they passed and didn't even stop to apologize. In fact, not only did he not acknowledge his clumsiness, the man turned back. "Watch where you're going, mate."

"I'm more surprised than you are," Harry admitted, watching the man stumble up to the bar. "I'm just here to find Dudley. I have something I need to talk to him about. D'you know where he is?"

"He told us he was with you." Keelie's expression changed from a smile to a scowl. "We asked him to come meet us here tonight but he said you both had plans and he couldn't make it."

It was hardly surprising that Dudley had lied. What did shock Harry was that he had been used as the excuse. This very news was so unexpected that it took Harry just a little too long to recover himself.

"Is that what this is about? For weeks he's been pulling this disappearing act on us and now you show up? Have you two set this whole scheme up to mess with our minds? Is it? IS IT?"

Harry tried to protest but Keelie had got into her stride and wasn't about to let a little trifle like an explanation stop her.

"Oh, Brenna is going to love this, she is. We give up our time to spend with the two of you and –"

"Whatever Dudley is doing I have no part in it. Where exactly did he say we were going to be tonight?" Harry cut across her when Keelie seemed like she was going to continue indefinitely.

"He didn't. He just told us he'd be with you. How many other times has he lied? I bet he wasn't with you this weekend, was he?"

Over his shock at having his suspicions so quickly confirmed, Harry felt a sense of triumph that what he had said to Ginny was right. Keelie's scowl increased even more.

"If you see that two-faced prat, you tell him not to show his face around here again unless he wants it severely altered." With that threat she stormed off.

Harry let out a small chuckle as he turned to leave, but his good humor was short-lived. Having now confirmed his suspicions he had other problems. He still had to find out where Dudley was going, and why had he lied? His cousin as far as Harry knew, had never lied to him. No, Dudley had always gone to the other extreme: painful and cruel truths and taunts. The fact he was lying about something that Harry could care less about added to the troubling aspects of Dudley's behaviour. What was it he was actually doing? He decided to return home as quickly as he could. Maybe Dudley hadn't left for the night and Harry could follow him and end this mystery altogether.

* * *

Jordana and Gwenog seemed to think that having two days away from training meant they had to pack three days worth of drills into that Monday's training. After three hours of talking tactics and then another eight hours of hard practice, Ginny literally dragged herself home. She was so exhausted that she couldn't bear to think about Apparating and climbing all those stairs to Harry's flat so she used the Floo network. She stumbled as she stepped out of the fireplace, dragged herself over to the sofa and flopped onto it, not even bothering to brush the soot off her clothes.

If she actually fell asleep or just dozed, Ginny wasn't sure, but before she had regained any energy, there was movement from the area of the bedrooms.

"Hello?" she called, not bothering to look up, her voice muffled a little by the cushions. There were a few heavy footsteps and then Dudley started talking.

"What happened to you?" he asked, coming even closer. Ginny sat up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Why are you covered in soot?"

"Floo powder," she replied, backing away when he appeared to reach out and touch her. At the last minute though he grabbed a sweater that had been flung over the back of the couch.

"You look wiped," he said. "Long day?"

"You might say that," she replied, rubbing her eyes. "It feels like three days to be honest."

Dudley stood there for a minute as if uncertain how to talk. He bounced the sweater up and down in his hand for a while, chewing his bottom lip. In the intervening time Ginny stood, pulled out her wand and cleaned the soot that had followed her from the hearth.

"You work too hard," he said finally, sounding genuinely concerned.

Ginny shrugged.

"You can't improve without a lot of hard work," she said.

Dudley imitated her by also shrugging. "I suppose you're right. But . . . well, there's only so much you can do before it starts to drag your performance down."

What did Dudley Dursley know about hard work? Ginny wasn't sure how to respond. She wanted to make some snide comment about how Dudley wouldn't know what hard work was if it was tattooed on his face. She refrained for two reasons: he looked like he was trying to be sincere, and she was always telling Harry he needed to give his cousin a chance. She needed to practice what she preached.

"Thanks for your concern, Dudley, but I'm fine. Things are only this crazy half the year. The rest of the time I can be a lazy lay-about."

"I can't believe that Harry lets you do this to yourself. If you were my girlfriend – "

"Lets me?" Ginny asked, standing at full height, alert. "He doesn't _let me_ do anything. I am the one who wanted to play Quidditch. And I'm not your girlfriend. Don't start with those what-ifs. I don't want to hear it."

Ginny was happy to note that Dudley appeared ashamed at his comment. Perhaps he had changed, she thought. The Dudley she'd known back before Voldemort's downfall wouldn't have let up, let alone shown regret.

"I just meant that he hasn't been around much, that's all."

"He's got an important job," Ginny replied, feeling more annoyed than she had with his previous comments. "They're trying to capture some really dangerous dark wizards. Its not something you can do on a nine to five schedule, or in a day."

"How's that going though? I don't think that they're making any progress despite the long hours. Doesn't that bother you?" Dudley asked. He was smiling in a way that disconcerted Ginny. She opened her mouth to throw an angry retort at his smugness, but when she looked again he was wearing a grim expression, leaving her doubting what she saw.

* * *

It was later than he had hoped it would be when Harry finally returned home. Unluckily Dudley had already left for the evening and Ginny was fast asleep. She must have had a rigorous training practice, that always tired her out, he thought as he warmed up some dinner. With all the training they were doing and their success this season, the Harpies were bound to end up in the finals. This season it appeared that the Harpies and Puddlemere were the teams to watch. Having them in the finals would be worth watching for sure. If the Harpies won Ginny might feel less insecure about her identity and would agree to move in permanently. She'd been staying here every night for months now, but Harry had learned from his mistakes. He was not going to broach the topic until he was sure she would agree to move in. The day that happened he'd have to push a little harder to get Dudley over to Grimmauld Place.

It was of his cousin that Harry thought as he chewed on a chicken leg. Dudley was lying to Harry, Keelie and Brenna about where he was going. While the girls might care that Dudley wasn't spending time with them, Harry didn't. They'd spent some time together with pleasant results, but that didn't automatically mean that Harry wanted to spend every waking moment with him. In fact it was quite the contrary. No, there was something else going on. He would find out what it was before week's en

Harry had no idea how true that thought would become. He was trapped at work so late for the next three days that Dudley was already gone by the time he returned so there was no hope of following him. It was only Friday that he got out of long meetings before nine. He was in the door of his flat by six-thirty.

Ginny hadn't returned from the Burrow yet. She had promised to visit her parents after training that day. Harry was especially glad as it afforded him the option of talking to Dudley without making excuses. As he closed the door, Harry could hear the familiar sounds of Dudley bustling about, getting ready for another night out. He had a plan to get the information out of his cousin, one way or another.

"Going out again tonight?" he asked when Dudley came around the corner. Dudley jumped and looked around for a second before his eyes landed on Harry. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be hours again." Now he had got over the shock of seeing Harry, it was apparent that Dudley was not pleased. He was nervously twisting his wristwatch and frequently looking away from Harry. This behaviour did nothing to alleviate the suspicion that Harry felt for Dudley's lies. What had he got up to that made him so nervous to have Harry around? Hopefully tonight would tell.

"I happen to live here and it's the weekend."

"Oh? I was just recently told that you don't have a nine-to-five job. The way Ginny speaks, and the fact you haven't been here all week would suggest that you don't get a weekend." Harry didn't respond to this comment. He could detect traces of Dudley's old behaviour coming through, the nervousness abating somewhat. "Keelie told me you were at the club Monday night. What work could have possibly brought you there? Do Aurors really spend time in Muggle Clubs chatting up women?"

"I wasn't chatting her up," Harry said before he could stop himself. He didn't like the implication that Dudley was making. It was time to turn the tables back around. "I might ask you why you weren't there when you told Keelie and Brenna you would be. Seems like you're hiding something. What's the secret, Big D?"

Harry didn't expect Dudley to spill all of his secrets but he watched him closely for any signs of fidgeting or nervousness. Apart from a momentary twitch towards his watch Harry noticed no signs that his question had caused Dudley any unease. Yet there was still a nagging feeling that the truth was very near the surface.

"My business. I don't recall agreeing that my staying here meant I had to tell you the goings on of every minute of my life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have two girls that are waiting for me." With what Harry considered to be a false sense of bravado, Dudley turned on his heel and marched back to his bedroom. He hit the corer of the wall and stumbled a little; the only concrete sign that he wasn't as cool and collected as he tried to portray.

Harry acted as though he saw nothing and that Dudley's stupid speech had convinced him to drop the entire matter. When the door closed behind Dudley, Harry raced to his room, extracted his invisibility cloak and set to following his cousin.

Under cover of twilight and the noise of London, it was easy for Harry to follow Dudley without notice. What was more difficult was getting onto the underground. As he hopped over one of the gates his foot caught in the hem of the cloak and he fell hard on his right knee, letting out a grunt of pain, and an automatic curse word or two. Thankfully there was a group of rowdy teenagers standing nearby whose volume hid his outburst.

After carefully getting to his feet, Harry hastened to catch up with Dudley, who was already walking onto a train. With the pain caused by his fall, Harry was much slower going than he would otherwise have been and thus had to resort to magic to keep the train doors open. Fortune was again with him because no one commented on why the doors remained open longer than necessary. Once he was in the car Harry was able to sit down and keep an eye on Dudley – there were enough empty seats that he was in little danger of being sat on.

The train, Harry only noticed after riding for several minutes, wasn't heading into the downtown where Dudley was a frequenter of the nighttime scene, but south to where Harry knew not until they reached Paddington station. It was almost as if Dudley were heading to Little Whinging. Hadn't he said he didn't go there the night he had first arrived at Harry's asking for a place to stay? Then again, Dudley had already demonstrated that he wasn't averse to lying, learning he hadn't been telling the truth about this either shouldn't come as a surprise.

Privet Drive was indeed Dudley's destination. As Harry followed him up the unpleasantly familiar street he tried to guess why his cousin was here. If it was really as painful as Dudley made out there could be no benefits to coming here, could there? It wasn't as if Dudley had never seen the house his parents had lived in and was coming to see it for the first time as had been the case with Harry and the Potter's house in Godric's Hollow.

Harry lurked unseen on the garden path as Dudley unlocked the door and disappeared inside. He was not in any rush to go back into that house. Aside from spending many unpleasant years here, the last time he had left he and Lupin had narrowly escaped Voldemort and a group of Death Eaters. He wasn't sure he wanted to go into a house where he had such a terrible departure.

A light turned on in the sitting room, snapping Harry out of his indecision. He saw a tattered curtain move and Dudley's face appeared in the window. Harry shrunk farther back into the shadows before he remembered that Dudley couldn't see him anyway. Dudley looked up and down the street as though he was waiting for someone.

"Aha," Harry said under his breath. He had been right to follow Dudley. Perhaps he would have an answer to his questions within mere moments or hours. He retreated to the other side of the door and crouched down among the long dead begonias.

Time passed at a snail's pace as Harry hid among the shrubbery. His knee was throbbing worse than ever but he dared not move lest he miss the sound or sight of someone approaching. He began to lose patience after the ache in his knee became even more persistent. He stood up and prepared to leave, thinking that he'd just have to come back another time. He made to step over the begonia but his cloak got tangled on one of the branches and Harry, a little unsteady and stiff after remaining crouched for so long, banged his injured knee on the brick house. A sharp burst of pain caused him to dip into his lexicon of colorful words again.

"Hello?"

Harry spun to see Dudley peeking his head out of the door and looking around warily. Three times he looked right past Harry. This, given his rising temper, annoyed Harry. Without removing his cloak or making any other announcement of his presence he walked up to Dudley and with one forceful shove pushed him back into the house and stepped in himself. This happened so fast that Harry didn't take the time to register his cousin's reaction. Dudley was white as a ghost.

"Its me," he said irritably, removing his cloak. As he became visible, Harry stowed the cloak in his pocket and looked around the house for the first time in nearly five years.

Everyone had been right, the damage the Death Eaters had done was momentous. Outside, the house looked completely normal, but the minute you stepped inside the sense of order vanished. Aunt Petunia's spotlessly clean house was caked with dirt and grime. The furniture, once rigidly aligned, was turned over, or sat haphazardly in the centre of the room. The banister on the stairs was smashed and so were several of the risers. From his limited vantage point, Harry could see the rest of the house had fared little better. Seeing as Voldemort had also been here that night it was really a miracle the house was standing at all.

"You followed me?" Dudley asked, recovering himself finally. "What right did you have to do that?"

He sounded genuinely indignant but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that Dudley was as uncomfortable being here as he was. Dudley kept looking anywhere but at Harry, yet he wouldn't focus on a fixed point either. His eyes would land on a broken or damaged fixture in his family home and almost as quickly move on to some other point.

"What gives me the right is the fact you're lying about something. I won't have people living with me who aren't honest," Harry replied, leaning against the wall to take the weight off his injured knee. The last time they hadn't kept tabs on Dudley they learned far too late that he'd been supplying Draco Malfoy with information. His history was working against him.

"I'd move into that monstrous house of yours if that _creature_ didn't keep threatening to throttle me. Is it my fault you don't keep your word and talk to him?"

Harry growled quietly. He had indeed talked to Kreacher about his insistence that Dudley was not welcome at Grimmauld Place. The house-elf was adamant that he didn't want someone like Dudley living in his mistress's house. Harry wasn't sure if Kreacher meant Dudley's blood status or other annoying qualities. He could have ordered him to let Dudley stay, but he'd been trying to appease Hermione and thus was keeping a more civil tone with Kreacher. There were times, like now, where Harry wanted to ignore the complaints that would be leveled at him from both Dudley and Kreacher and let the two of them battle it out amongst themselves.

"You could try being nicer to him, you know."

"He's your servant!" Dudley replied with enough disdain to make Draco Malfoy proud. "Shouldn't he do what you tell him?"

"I can't force him to like you, Dudley. You have to do that yourself. It's going to require that you regard him as something more than an unintelligent oaf." Harry took a second to marvel at how much he sounded like Hermione. When Dudley looked like he might be sick at the very idea of being nice to Kreacher, Harry steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "So . . . you going to tell me why you're here?"

"I can't come to my parent's house?" Dudley returned to his apparently angry state, but he was fidgeting worse than ever.

"It seems odd that you would come on a Friday night and when you were so certain you were never going to come back here again. Wasn't that the very reason you gave for moving in with me?"

Dudley relinquished his place by the wall and slowly strayed down the hall, navigating his way over a broken mirror and smashed pictures.

"Look at this place," he said from the entrance near the kitchen. "Its unfit for anyone to live in, even if I –" He stopped abruptly and stared at his feet.

"If you - what?"

"Why aren't you living in Godric's Hollow?" Dudley challenged.

Harry pondered Dudley's question. There were innumerable reasons why Harry chose to live in London rather than at his parent's home. It was structurally unsound, had become a tourist spot for witches and wizards who wanted to satisfy their morbid curiosity about how Voldemort fell – not exactly ideal for someone who wanted to live a quiet life, where he'd witnessed the murder of Henry Clark, the innocent Muggle who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was where his connection with Voldemort started and ended, and where his parents had been killed . . .

Suddenly Harry thought he understood. Even though the circumstances were different, Dudley must be reminded of his own parents when he came here. A quick glance confirmed what he was thinking. It was hardly surprising that Dudley didn't want to stay in this house even if they could make it habitable again.

"Why do you come here then?" he asked curiously. Surely someone like Dudley wouldn't have it in him to be so masochistic to come to a place that caused him so much pain.

Dudley shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't deny anything, but hardly looked comfortable with the topic. Harry spent some time slowly making his way further through the house, vaguely recognizing the remains of pictures that had adorned the walls in precise rows. As he crunched the glass on a picture of Dudley as a toddler he wondered why no one had picked up any of these things before. They might not be able to fix everything, but surely the house could be made presentable. Then again, restoring the house to any level of its former pristine condition would take a lot of work, even with magic. Dudley didn't have a lot of people around him who would be willing to help. Harry couldn't imagine the likes of Keelie and Brenna in here with brooms and mops helping to clean up. Even if they did they would surely have a million questions about how the house had got into this state.

"D'you have your wand with you?" he asked, taking out his own and wondering if Dudley would have heeded his warning about always carrying it with him.

"Yeah, why?"

In response, Harry pointed his wand at the picture he'd just stepped on, muttered, "reparo," and it flew back together. He picked it up and handed it to Dudley, whose downtrodden expression brightened ever so slightly.

"Have you ever learned how to repair anything using magic?"

"No."

Harry didn't give himself a chance to think about the other times he'd tried to teach Dudley magic, he jumped straight into the explanation of how the charm worked. He repaired a few other pictures to give Dudley the general idea then he let him try. The first few attempts were disastrous. Dudley managed to break three of the four pictures Harry had already fixed. Unlike the years previous though, he listened intently to what Harry said, and was making every effort to perform it properly. It took an hour before he was able to manage the spell – astounding by Dudley's usual standards.

"There's hope for you yet," Harry said, putting a newly mended vase onto the recently repaired hall table.

"Maybe," Dudley replied happily. "Reparo."

So the work went on until the whole of the first floor looked as close to how it had in Harry's memory. By that time it was eleven-thirty.

"Let's call it a night," he said, wanting to get home before Ginny fell asleep.

"What? It's early," Dudley said, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"Not so early when you've worked all day. Come on." Dudley didn't move as Harry started to leave. Not wanting to fight, he shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's going to be a long ride back to town though."

Just before he crossed the threshold that connected the sitting room with the hall Harry heard Dudley shout, "exsmelliairmus." It was obvious what his intention was, but the fact he botched the incantation in such an amusing way made it uncertain what, if anything, would happen. Harry ducked behind the wall in the hall but no jet of light came from Dudley's direction. When Harry chanced a glance into the sitting room, Dudley was frowning and examining his wand. Seeing nothing wrong with it he started shaking it like one might to dry glue. Harry couldn't suppress his laughter, and continued even harder with Dudley's repeated and increasingly emphatic cries of "exsmelliairmus."

"I – uh – think you mean expelliarmus," he said when he could speak once more. Dudley's wand obediently flew out of its owner's hand and Harry caught it. "Nice try though. Exsmelliairmus! You coming?"

"No." Dudley took his wand back and studied it, still frowning. Harry thought he heard him muttering the proper incantation under his breath.

"See you later, then." He corrected his path and headed for the back garden to Disapparate. As he opened the back door Harry felt as if he could have traveled back in time. If it hadn't been for the much cooler air this night than that night in July he might have truly thought he was again fleeing Privet Drive with Voldemort close on his heels.

"Harry?" Dudley was standing silhouetted by the light of the sitting room.

"Yeah?"

"I . . . " Dudley twisted his wand in his fingers. "Thanks . . . For helping tonight and . . . and showing me . . . " Harry said nothing because he could see that Dudley had more he wanted to say. The silence was uncomfortable. "I know I've been pretty rotten to you – a real foul git . . . I don't deserve – if you knew how I –"

"Its no big deal," Harry said after a few seconds silence. He wasn't sure he wanted Dudley to complete that last thought. This conversation had already gone too far. It was nice that Dudley was taking the time to say thank you, but acknowledging past wrongs? Harry felt it was time to get out of this house; it was making Dudley loopy. "What are cousin's for, right?"

"Yeah." Dudley spoke softly, digesting Harry's words. When he spoke again it was in a stronger, but slightly bitter tone. "Yeah. What are cousins for?"

"You all right?" Harry was becoming genuinely worried. Reflective states were not natural for Dudley Dursley. Maybe being at Privet Drive wasn't a good thing for him after all. He started to say so but Dudley waved his concern away and said, in a hurried voice, ""No, I'm fine. Just sorry for lying to you."

"Th – anks?" Harry stumbled over his words when Dudley did the most unexpected thing and gave him a quick one-armed hug before shunting him out the door.

"You were leaving."

"Yeah," Harry replied. Dudley closed the door and disappeared deeper into the house. Harry stared in after him for a minute.

There was only so much strangeness he could take for one night. Dudley coming to number four, Privet Drive, being sentimental about his parents, actually mastering a spell, repairing things himself by using magic, thanking Harry for his help! Hugging him! And looking like he felt genuine regret for lying and his past behaviour. Dudley could actually be changing for the better.

And people thought magic was incredible.


	11. At Ron And Hermione's

It was the first truly nice day all year, so nice that they didn't even need to bring jackets with them. Harry and Ginny wanted to Apparate but Dudley was having no part of it.

"Can't we just do that fireplace thing?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Apparition is faster," Harry said. "It only takes a few seconds to get there, and then you're fine, and not all covered in soot."

They continued back and forth while Ginny strolled over to the window and stroked the sleeping Hedwig. She didn't care which way they got to Ron and Hermione's. Hedwig lifted her head and looked in the direction of Harry and Dudley's conversation, and hooted softly.

"I know. Men can be so indecisive," Ginny stated just loud enough for them to hear. She smiled sweetly at them and then turned to look out the window. Down on the street was gathered a crowd several dozen strong. What they were doing down there she couldn't guess, but it didn't look like they were going to move anytime soon making Disapparition harder to achieve without notice.

"I think the decision has been made for us," Ginny said. When Harry asked her what she meant she beckoned him over and showed him the crowd. He swore out of frustration.

"Looks like he's won this one, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry replied in a defeated voice. "You're lucky there's a huge crowd of people down there, Dudley. We're going to have to Floo over after all."

They sent Dudley first, that way they'd have a better chance of finding him if he got stuck somewhere. Before they followed him Ginny leaned up and gave Harry a kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"Are you complaining?"

"No, I . . . just . . . " he stated defensively. Ginny couldn't help but smile.

"Relax. I just wanted to tell you how nice it is to see you and Dudley getting along. I'm so proud of the effort that you're putting in with him." She grimaced. It had sounded much better in her head.

"Yeah?" Harry smiled one of his crooked grins, an impish idea beginning to form. He didn't seem troubled by how corny her words were. "Do I get a prize?"

"You just might," she replied, deciding to play along. "Bu it'll have to be later. Ron and Hermione are expecting us and we've already send Dudley over."

"They can wait a half-hour."

"You're completely hopeless, Harry," she replied, laughing. "OK, they can wait a half hour, but you'll have to explain to Hermione and my brother why we were so late."

Harry paled.

"All right, we'll talk about this later then," he said reaching for a pinch of Floo powder. "You can go first."

Their arrival at Ron and Hermione's was without incident. When Harry finally stepped out, his Firebolt in hand, Dudley was sitting at the table, a cup of tea in hand, watching as Hermione show Ginny wedding samples, Ginny was starting to regret agreeing to be Hermione's maid of honor because she had to pay attention to all this. She really envied Harry, who was here to go flying with Ron and Dudley again. His duties as best man were far fewer than hers. Hermione kept up a stream of dialogue about the decisions that had and had not yet been made, until Harry and Dudley started stifling yawns.

"I'm sorry. You two came here to go flying, didn't you?" she asked. "You surely don't want to hear about all of this. Ron?"

Ron, who had been standing back against the counter, said, "we'll go in a little while. They just got here, Hermione. Give them a chance to get their bearings."

"They Flooed, they didn't fly. I think they're fine. Go, we have some girl stuff to discuss.

To Ginny's amazement, Ron left, but he did so slowly, and with many looks back at Hermione. Ginny couldn't believe what she was seeing. He would usually run as fast as he could in the opposite direction when he heard that 'girl things' were being discussed.

"What did you do to him?" she asked, impressed that Ron had gained a level of maturity about certain matters.

"Nothing." Hermione sighed. "He's been like that for the last few weeks, ever since Justin disappeared."

"He's worried?"

"That's only part of it," Hermione said, fussing with a sample of different china patterns. "He is worried – don't tell Harry I said this – he's scared that this might have some connection to Harry, and if it does and they took Justin because he was Muggle-born –"

" – That you'll be in more danger than anyone else," Ginny finished. It seemed highly improbable that Harry was connected to this case as more than one of the Aurors investigating it. If there was anyone who might be targeted though, it was Harry. Of course, not everything involving dark magic was linked to Harry. Ron should realize that before he started aching like he had.

"You see why I asked you not to say anything to Harry. I don't think that he would react well if he knew what Ron was thinking. You're not going to say anything to him, are you?"

Ginny thought about her answer for a minute. Again it wasn't as simple as she'd like it to be. Harry definitely would not take Ron's worries well, especially after dealing with Tougas's accusations. On the other hand, if he knew that it wasn't just his idiotic supervisor who doubted him, maybe Harry would take these fears seriously and look into it. If he uncovered something that was responsible for saving Hermione's life he'd forgive Ron. There was always the chance that he'd pull away from everyone again though.

"No, I won't tell him now, but if it looks like Ron's right I'm telling him straightaway. Are we agreed on that?"

"Fine," Hermione said unwillingly.

"Thank you." Ginny looked at the table covered in samples. They'd better get down to business, she thought. The sooner they delved into these things, the sooner they'd be done. "Should we get started?"

"If I have to look at another one of these things I think I'll hex someone." Hermione took the handful of samples from Ginny and threw them back on the table. "Between my mother and yours I've spent precious hours arguing over china patterns and flower arrangements. It's got so I hate coming home already. I've told the mothers just to fight amongst themselves and come to me with their final choices, but they insist I need to be there. Honestly, Ginny, I think Ron and I picked the worst time to plan a wedding."

These were the last sentiments Ginny expected to hear from Hermione, especially given how excited she had been when talking about everything at Christmas. She'd been insufferable during Bill and Fleur's wedding too.

"You could always elope," Ginny suggested. She was only half kidding. It had been something she had considered in the past. Her mother was already revolting when she got into full steam about Harry and Ginny getting married. When Ginny was a young girl engaged in her little fantasies about 'the boy who lived,' her mother was more than happy to supply her own thoughts about her only daughter's wedding. Now reality had overtaken fantasy, Ginny knew her mother would be insufferable if she and Harry ever did decide to get married. It would probably be easier on everyone if they eloped. Hermione and Ron didn't have the same pressure though. Elopement was surely off the table. Except –

"I've thought of that but our mothers would murder me, and I think Ron wouldn't agree. He's been a little more involved in wedding plans than I thought."

Ginny had been taking a sip of tea as Hermione talked. At this last statement she choked, spraying tea over several pictures of wedding dresses.

"Sorry," she said, "but you're talking about Ron Weasley, right? My brother?"

Hermione nodded. "I was as shocked as you to see he was even staying here. When your mother and mine became frequent visitors I thought he would camp out at Harry's. He hasn't openly embraced his interest completely. He tries to act like he doesn't care, but more than once I've seen him flipping through these samples.

Ginny knew she was grinning evilly. She owed Ron for years of joining the twins in their relentless teasing. This seemed just the opportunity to pay him back.

"Don't be too hard on him." At least Hermione had the good sense not to ask Ginny to leave Ron totally alone.

"We'll have to see how he reacts. More tea?"

Ginny got up to prepare more tea. Looking out the window she saw Harry, Ron and Dudley standing out in the backyard. None of them had brooms with them, but they all had their wands out. Seeing this, Ginny leaned closer to the window, looking to see if there was any danger approaching. As she watched she saw Dudley's wand fly out of his hand and Harry caught it.

"Are they doing stupid aerodynamics on their brooms again?" Hermione asked, coming over and watching as well. They both saw Dudley disarm Ron. "Wow. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah. Harry told me Dudley can use 'reparo' as well. He's actually been more decent than usual," Ginny said as an afterthought. She watched as they gave up disarming each other and grabbed their brooms. Harry brushed back his fringe before taking off ahead of the other two.

"Has his scar been doing anything funny over the last few weeks?" Hermione questioned.

"No. Its back to the way its looked for the last few years," Ginny said, not taking her eyes off Harry and the others as they flew further and further away from the house. When they were out of sight she turned to Hermione. "Have you found out anything else?"

"No. I've been looking, but nothing explains why it started to bleed again. When I get some time off I'm going to look harder – maybe ask McGonagall if she'll let me use the Hogwarts library. I'm sure I've read something about the spell that Voldemort used to create the Dark Mark . . . "

"Harry hasn't got a Dark Mark, Hermione."

"I know that! But . . . I still have a feeling that there's some relation there. Some common element in the spell."

"I'll take your word for it," Ginny replied. She could have given her sarcastic reply that the commonality was their creator. Somehow she didn't think that was what Hermione was looking for though. The three brooms were still out of her view so she finished preparing the tea and returned to her seat, as Hermione had already done. "So what are we doing with these samples?"

They spent the next several hours looking over samples for the wedding. Hermione was rejecting each one with an increasing air of impatience and hysteria.

"Relax. We don't have to decide on everything, let alone anything, today," Ginny said calmly as Hermione ran her fingers through her bushy hair, looking from one picture to another, a crazed expression in her eyes.

"When then? If not today, when is all this going to be worked out?" She snatched two samples from the table at random. "I don't know what sort of flower will be in season in August that will match the table settings or the china pattern."

Ginny felt a sudden urge to laugh. Hermione was never known for her calm manner, but she usually kept it together better than this. The two mothers, Ron, researching reasons for the odd behaviour of Harry's scar, and her own work had finally caught up with her proving she, too, had a breaking point. Suppressing her laughter, Ginny took matters into her own hands. She vanished the whole lot of samples, including the two that Hermione had been clinging to. Then she refilled the empty cup of tea and poured a small measure of Firewhiskey into it.

"Drink this. You'll feel better." Hermione took the cup without question and gulped down half of it straightaway.

"Thank you," she said a minute later, visibly calmer.

"You're welcome. I guess that's going to be my service to you as your maid of honor, keeping you sane."

Hermione laughed, but agreed that she was probably going to need Ginny's services again before she and Ron walked down the aisle.

"And I'll be more than happy to do the same when you and Harry make things official, which should be any day now, right?"

Ginny smiled noncommittally at the inquiring look on Hermione's face. It was certainly not the first time Hermione had talked to her about it, but Ginny would have sworn this particular inquiry had her mother's fingerprints all over it.

"I don't mean to pry – and you can tell me to nose out if you want – but everyone thought you two were going to run off and get married right after you left Hogwarts. Have you two even talked about it yet?"

"Sort of . . . well . . . no. We did talk about moving in – he asked me to – but – "

"Stop." Hermione's eyes were wide as she held up her hand. "Harry asked you to move in with him? When did this happen?"

"The night you and Ron told us you were engaged. But –" she tried to explain and was again interrupted.

"That was almost five months ago and you're just now telling me? How could you –"

"He only asked me then because he thought it was expected since Ron was leaving," Ginny replied impatiently, recalling Harry's botched offer. "He said all the reasons for us not living together had been nullified."

To Ginny's annoyance, Hermione smiled.

"I can't really say I'm surprised. He's never been known for saying all the right things. You know that. His heart's in the right place though."

"Is that supposed to make it better? By that logic he could get away with almost anything because 'his heart's in the right place." Ginny worked very hard to keep her voice in check. She'd come here to help Hermione, not to be interrogated on her relationship with Harry.

"Not at all. I'm just saying maybe you should cut him some slack. He tends to act before he thinks. Kind of like you, don't you agree?"

"I might be a little hasty," Ginny conceded, but there are some things that warrant thinking about before you go blurting them out. D'you believe Harry thought anything at all about how it would change things if I was living there full time?"

"Probably not that night, but I know for sure he thought about it before." Hermione had fully regained her sense of control and was using it to good effect here. Ginny was thoroughly annoyed at her for that. "He'd been thinking about it even before Ron moved into his flat."

"What?"

"Yes. Before you finished school he spent a lot of time talking to Ron and I about it. He asked us not to say anything to you," she added before Ginny could ask. "We thought that he was building up his nerve to do it. When we didn't hear anything we figured he chickened out."

"So you're telling me he had over a year to think about this, and he couldn't come up with anything better?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

"I think he wanted to bring it up many times but he . . . tripped over himself when he finally brought it up."

"I think he just assumed I'd say yes is more like," Ginny replied stubbornly.

"I don't understand why you're so hesitant to move in with him. You're staying there ninety-nine percent of the time anyway. Living there full-time wouldn't be that much different than what you're doing now. If he did assume that you would say yes, I'd say it's a fair assumption.

It was a point well made and though she wanted to continue arguing, Ginny couldn't find a point to counter. In fact, she rather thought that Hermione had made Harry's argument better than he could have hoped to. Before she and Ron moved to Hogsmeade, Hermione had spent almost all of her time at Harry's flat despite still officially living with her parents. If anyone knew what they were talking about, it would be her.

Hermione got up and started pulling pots and pans from the cupboards.

"So, can you even tell me why you are so upset at Harry for asking, apart from the manner of his request. Do you not see a future together?"

The clanking of the pots and pans served as a distraction while Ginny thought of what Hermione had asked. The quick answer would be yes. She couldn't recall a single time in her life when she hadn't seen a future with Harry. The trouble was that what she saw was quite different from what she had. What they had wasn't better or worse than what she had spent a lifetime praying for, it was just different.

"You know, now I think about it, there was this time back in our fifth year at Hogwarts. D'you remember that interview Harry gave the Quibbler?"

"Yeah." Ginny wondered where Hermione was going with this story as she supervised the chopping of the celery.

"We had to meet in the Three Broomsticks because of that horrible Umbridge woman, so Luna and I were waiting with Rita Skeeter for Harry and Cho –"

"I don't want to hear this," Ginny grumbled. Hermione shushed her and explained about Harry's horrible handling of that situation.

"What's your point, Hermione? I hope its not to illicit sympathy. If Harry hadn't messed up so royally with Cho, she might be standing here instead of me."

For some reason this comment amused Hermione. At first Ginny was most displeased with her reaction. However something occurred to her.

"That just proves that things don't always have to be good to turn out right. Am I hearing you right?" The continued smile on Hermione's face was all Ginny needed to convince her she had interpreted her amusement correctly.

She'd been set up. Ginny only now realized that she'd walked right into the trap Hermione had set for her. Yet, knowing now that Harry was just naturally tongue-tied made her feel a lot better. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to reconsider Harry's offer. She would have to think about it a while longer to make sure it was really what she wanted but even in the short time since her conversation with Hermione she liked the idea more.

"I'll get the guys in," she offered, seeing someone fly over the house. Getting them down might mean going up after them and Hermione hated to fly.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "I'll go see to Dawlish."

When she stepped outside and looked around Ginny couldn't see anyone in the sky, even as tiny dots. She shrugged, mounted the broom she had brought out with her and set off in search of her brother, boyfriend and Dudley. It was still relatively light out so it would be easier to spot them.

Ginny found Harry first; he was flying towards her from the direction of the mountains where he had once gone to visit Sirius. He was laughing and spending most of his time looking back at Ron and Dudley who were far behind; one of the many benefits of the Firebolt. Ginny missed the one that she used with the Harpies.

"Whoa," she called when he was twenty feet from her and showed no signs of slowing down. She surveyed in case he didn't see her in time. Unfortunately he turned his head just in time and also swerved – in the same direction as Ginny. With an almighty thump they crashed into each other.

"Oomph," Ginny said, grabbing Harry's shoulder to steady herself.

"Are you all right?" he asked, putting his arm around her to steady them both.

"Yeah. You need to watch where you're going though," she replied, not making any effort to extricate herself.

"Sorry."

"Its OK. You're just lucky I don't have my broom with me. I'd have shown you what that broom can really do."

"Really?" He was smiling impishly for the second time that day. "I might have to take you up on that challenge."

"Sure, if you want to embarrass yourself," she teased.

Ginny thought that Harry was going to challenge her then and there, but Ron and Dudley had caught up.

"Can you ever keep your hands off my sister?" Ron sounded annoyed. "Blimey, we're a hundred feet in the air."

"Really?" Ginny asked sarcastically. Then, not quite ready to take the mickey out of Ron over the wedding, she did something of equal measure. She leaned over and kissed Harry.

"Oi," Ron shouted indignantly.

"You're the one who reminded me that we hadn't done that up here yet," Ginny replied. "Thanks for the suggestion."

Ron scowled for a minute and then the corners of his lips started to turn upwards, but he fought it.

"You just think you can get away with everything, don't you?"

"Well, not ever –"

Before Ginny could finish what she was saying, Ron shot at her like a javelin. Had she not still been holding onto Harry she might have been done for. He, thanks to the Firebolt, sped away in a second, dragging Ginny with him. It was an odd sensation, riding a broom but not controlling its movements. Ginny wasn't sure she liked it. Thankfully they were slowly making their way to the ground.

"We're not doing that again," she said when they both dismounted and were firmly planted in Ron and Hermione's back garden and were waiting for Ron and Dudley to join them.

"What?" Crashing into each other? Because I rather enjoyed that part." Harry had his arm around her waist and used it to pull her closer. Ginny didn't mind either. In fact, she thought she could get used to this. She could deal with all that other rubbish by focusing on today and the others like it. Maybe . . .

"What did you and Hermione talk about – do I even want to know?"

"Nothing much. We talked about the wedding. She's a little stressed out because of it. I think she's taking a line out of my mother's book though because she was asking me when we were going to follow suit."

"Oh?" Harry asked. Ginny felt him tense beside her. It had been a contentious topic between them for months so his reaction was hardly surprising. She decided to change it.

"She also told me that Ron has a certain fondness for wedding plans." She had to go easy on Ron, not to keep the matter a secret. If she'd wanted Ron to get a proper ribbing for this she'd tell the twins.

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, coming within earshot. Ginny looked at Harry, who had visibly relaxed and was beginning to smirk. She was sure that he would follow her lead.

"Oh nothing," she said casually and turned to head back to the house, Harry walking beside her. They walked for a few steps and then she turned back. "I was just telling him what Hermione told me about your interest in wedding plans."

Ron's face turned a brilliant shade of pink. She knew that he wasn't going to let her comment go unpunished so she pulled her wand out. It was lucky she did because she immediately had to block a jelly-legs jinx.

"You'll have to be a little faster if you want to get her," Harry said.

Ginny gave Ron her best evil grin. He looked like he was going to try again but after a second he dropped his wand. Ginny knew better than to think that he was quite ready to give up. He'd just put it off until she was least expecting it. She would have to remain on her guard.

When they returned to the house Ron sped up to pass Ginny. He fixed her with the same evil smile she had just given him. Yes, she realized that she couldn't relax for the tiniest amount of time tonight. Before the night was out he was going to do something that one of them would regret. If it was within her power she was going to make sure that it was something Ron regretted.

Dudley sniffed interestedly at the smell of roast and potatoes that had filled the house since Ginny had left. It seemed everything was nearly ready.

"Dawlish decided to take his dinner in the office," Hermione said, shaking her head. Then she turned to look at Dudley. "Are you staying for dinner?"

The prospect attracted a bit of interest from Dudley. Before he gave his answer he checked his watch. He gave a comical yelp of surprise before looking up once more and shaking his head. Again she couldn't be absolutely sure, given how uncertain she'd been about his behaviour lately, but Ginny could have sworn Dudley looked a little paler than he had before. Harry obviously saw it too.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong. I just didn't realize how late it is. I've got to meet – " Dudley pulled his cuff over his watch and shot Harry a significant look. Ginny rather hoped he was going to finish his sentence, but there didn't seem to be the need.

"Ah," Harry replied. "Will you be OK to get back by the Floo Network?"

"I think I will." Dudley was already halfway to the fireplace in the living room as he said these words. With a crackling and then the familiar whoosh he vanished.

"Where'd he have to rush off to so suddenly?" Ron asked as soon as Dudley was out of sight.

"He has some other business tonight," Harry said evasively.

Apparently Harry hadn't been any more forthcoming with Ron and Hermione about his newfound understanding with Dudley than he had with Ginny. She could only shrug when they looked at her for answers. All she could say for certain was that he had come home late one Friday evening in a relatively good mood. When Ginny had asked him if there had been a break in the case Harry had said no. He'd just learned that hell might have actually frozen over because Dudley had developed the potential to be a normal human being. When she asked what he meant by that, Harry had told her the most amazing story about his visit to Privet Drive and the conversation he'd had with Dudley. Incredible as that was, it couldn't really explain what had passed between the two cousins now. Before Ginny could ask Harry to explain further Hermione changed the subject by announcing that dinner was ready.

Their meal was simple: beef roast, potatoes and steamed vegetables, all of which tasted adequate. What was more enjoyable was the conversation. Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to talk about work and, given how grim things had been at the Ministry, Ginny and Ron could hardly fault them. Two weeks after his disappearance they were still no closer to finding Justin. Naturally their lack of news hadn't endowed the Aurors or Hermione's department with good humor.

As a combatant to all the bad news, and stressful things they were enduring at the moment, they tried to make dinner festive. They laughed a great deal. Ginny was a little more restrained than she otherwise might have been. She couldn't lose control completely because she had to keep her eye on Ron. He, however, was behaving like his usual self. He didn't appear to have anything up his sleeve. She almost allowed herself to relax and ask why Dawlish had chosen not to eat with them when Ron threw a curve ball at her that made her glad Dawlish wasn't there after all.

Ron had insisted on discussing Quidditch. Since they were inching ever closer to the finals he was starting to become a man obsessed. The fact that Harry and Hermione weren't interjecting with anecdotes from work gave him free reign.

" . . . But if the Tornadoes beat the Wasps that'll put Portree out of the running. Then you'll clinch a playoff spot for sure." He was waving his glass of mead around in the air, spilling it everywhere. Hermione was trying to grab it from him but each time she reached for it Ron would move his hand away. Ginny was finding this scene rather amusing.

"Portree still has to play Puddlemere though. If they lose to Puddlemere, which they're likely to do –" Harry started to say, but Hermione's temper had got the better of her.

"For heaven's sake, give me that." She snatched the glass from Ron's hand and slammed it down on the table. "Look at what you did, Ron."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly, using his wand to clean up the mess.

"You need to be more careful," she said sternly.

Hermione's tone of voice and the reaction it elicited from Ron reminded Ginny of her parents. She chanced a glance at Harry, wondering if this is what came of living together. He was watching her, too. The tension that she had felt earlier when she had mentioned Hermione's comments about marriage had returned. From the tense and confused expression on his face, Ginny knew that Harry was as uncertain about how to react to Ron and Hermione's spat as she was.

"You were saying, Harry?" Hermione asked, shattering the silence.

"Er . . . " He looked down at his plate. The jubilant atmosphere they had tried to create had evaporated. Ginny decided to help him out and to try and ease the awkwardness.

"He was just saying that the Cannons will never be in the World Cup no matter how much you try to rearrange wins and losses. If you want to have a team to support, Ron, you should stick with one that has a realistic chance of getting to the finals. One of them happens to employ your only sister." She paused and assessed the expression on Ron's face. He didn't look unduly stressed, so she decided to continue with her plan. "I can't promise we'll rearrange the match for your wedding though. It is around the same time, right?"

She'd made a mistake with this last comment. Before she finished speaking a Fred and George-like twinkle came into Ron's eye.

"No, I don't think they would change it. But they probably would for you two. So come on, tell us, when's the big day?" He turned to Harry. "When are you going to make an honest woman out of my sister?"

Ginny ordinarily would have found humor in Ron's question, but things had been touchy on the future of their relationship for a while now and given how Harry had reacted earlier she wasn't sure what he would say. Would he get angry? Or sullen? Or would he say nothing at all? She wasn't sure which would be worse.

Ron's question was followed by a thick silence, much worse than the one that had accompanied Hermione's outburst. Harry kept his head down, staring at his plate. Ginny could see that he was feeling extremely uncomfortable. She thought that Ron was going to say something else but he kept quiet, whether on Hermione's request or not wasn't entirely certain. In the end all he did was clear his throat.

"I . . . " Ginny started to say, but she couldn't think of anything that would restore the lightheartedness again. There wasn't anything that she could say to Harry in present company. Hermione now knew that Harry had finally followed through on asking her to move in with him, but Ron didn't. She'd kept that very quiet indeed. With the already strained atmosphere, she wasn't sure she wanted to push it to breaking point. The fact that Harry, Ron and Hermione had all turned to look at her when she started to speak did nothing to ease her apprehension.

"I was just joking," Ron said uncertainly. "I – I know there wouldn't be a chance in hell that they would change the date of the World Cup for a wedding." His joke fell flat.

"Ha," Harry said, hollowly. It was this reaction more than his silence that convinced Ginny that his behaviour now was more than just the result of awkwardness at the topic of discussion. This time she had a feeling that it wouldn't blow over as quickly as it usually did. Their fight from several months ago looked like it was about to be rekindled, and would be bigger than ever.

They ate the rest of their dinner in relative silence as they were all nervous about saying anything. Harry was especially sullen. Seeing his continued lack of involvement in their light conversation was making Ginny feel worse by the second. She really had no idea how to fix things. Even if she were to agree to move in with Harry now, she was sure that this had become a case of too little, too late. This was aside from the fact that she wasn't entirely certain she wanted to take the next step of moving in with Harry. This dilemma took up most of her attention during the remainder of dinner.

It was a relief when the last morsel of food was cleared from the plates. Ginny offered to clean up so she could have some time to think. She was grateful that Hermione followed Ron and Harry into the sitting room and didn't insist on staying to talk. She stood and stared out of the window into the darkening back garden, replaying what had gone on this evening, and thinking.

A few hours ago she had been standing in the same spot, not exactly ecstatic, but in a much better place than she was now – which was where exactly? Ginny knew the answer to this question was the key to everything.

The clinking of the dishes became background noise as Ginny leaned on the counter and continued to stare outside. The darkness was ever decreasing her range of vision, and she began to wonder if this wasn't also true of the solution to her problems with Harry.

"Gin?"

It was Ron. He came slowly into the room, looking guilty. She'd lost the urge to take the mickey out of him.

"You OK?" he asked. When she shrugged he came and leaned against the counter next to her. "You know I was just joking, right? I didn't mean – I didn't think he'd react like that."

"Yes."

"What happened then?"

Everyone seemed to think that she knew all the intricacies of Harry's troubles. Ron and Hermione probably had a better understanding of Harry than she did, at least in some respects. Perhaps this was one of the reasons that she felt so annoyed at Ron for his question.

"Why don't you ask him?" Ginny said curtly.

"He left already."'

"He did?" Given how he had been reacting since she had told him about Hermione's comments, Ginny realized her shock was unwarranted. Still, the fact he had left without telling her anything was unlike him. Hard as it was to fathom, it made one thing crystal clear: she had completely underestimated how he must be feeling.

"Yeah. He said to tell you he had to go. I'm sorry. I didn't think –"

"Its OK, Ron. This has been coming for months." She patted him on the arm. "I've got to go."

Before she threw the powder into the fireplace, Ginny considered returning to the Burrow and dealing with Harry later. These things were always best dealt with right away though, so she called out her destination as Harry's flat.

All was quiet when Ginny stepped into the flat. She didn't think that calling out for Harry would do anything. He'd not seen the need to say goodbye before he left. She wasn't quite sure if he would stoop to the level of hiding from her, but she wasn't going to give him the opportunity. After ridding herself of the fine coating of ash that accompanied Floo travel, she headed for the bedroom. As she stepped around the corner caught up in what she was going to say to Harry when she found him she walked into someone. Looking up she was standing right in front of Dudley.

"Sorry," she said, anxious to get around him. Dudley, however, didn't move and, what was worse, looked like he was trying to conceal a smile. For the second time in a fortnight she felt chills creep up her spine at the attention he was paying her. She was in the unfortunate situation to have attracted a lot of unwanted attention from the lone surviving Dursley, but this time she was more disturbed than disgusted by it.

"Excuse me," she said with more emphasis.

"Yeah, sorry." Dudley backed up, but less than he should have done out of common courtesy. As she was anxious to find Harry, Ginny didn't want to spend time bickering with his cousin about a few inches. She squeezed by, unable to avoid brushing against him. This simple action, one that had probably occurred hundreds of times with who knew how many people, made her skin crawl. There was something very wrong about this. The cocky way Dudley refused to move . . . that wasn't the same Dudley who'd been with them this morning. She glared at him before turning into the bedroom to see if Harry was there. Like before she thought Dudley was smiling but when she looked a second time, his face was impassive. This, too, disturbed her.

"Weren't you meeting someone?" she asked irritably, not looking at him again as she stepped into the bedroom. She waited for the click of the front door to sound before she turned her full attention to the figure lying on the bed – Harry.

"What was that about?" he asked flatly. His tone of indifference irked her.

"I think Dudley might be relapsing," she replied.

"What d'you mean?" he asked, not as toneless as before, sitting up. "He's done something?"

"No. . . Not exactly, but . . . its just," Ginny tried to explain what had been her last couple of experiences with Dudley. She couldn't quite convey it satisfactorily, or at least Harry didn't seem to think there was anything to worry about because he lay back down on the bed.

"I think you're misinterpreting him. He's not like that anymore. You were right about him trying to change."

"You weren't there," Ginny stated adamantly. "I grant that he has changed in a lot of ways, but no one changes overnight. I get that you've embraced his changes, and that's great, but . . . I think you've just gone from one extreme to another, Harry. At first you didn't want him to stay here because you couldn't stand the sight of him, and now he can do no wrong?"

"I'm not the one who can't make up my mind, Ginny," he said crossly. He stood up and walked past her, leaving the bedroom.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, following him.

"Have you even made up your mind about why you don't want to live here?" He folded his arms and waited for Ginny to answer. She, taken aback at the directness of his question, took a minute to answer.

"It just wasn't the right time. I've already told you that. Why are you bringing it up now?"

"Everyone except you seems to think that we've moved well beyond the right time. You've been staying here for almost three months already. You're basically living here now. Why –"

"I don't know, all right," she cried in frustration. She turned away for a minute, facing the room that Ron had once stayed in. "If we're asking questions, I have one. Why did Ron's question upset you so much? It was just a joke."

Harry didn't answer this question, instead pacing around the room, running a hand through his hair. She waited for him to speak first, another difficult silence in a night filled with them. Eventually he sat down on the sofa and asked her to join him. She did, watching his face carefully for any sign of what he was going to say next. It had to be something weighty if it necessitated sitting down.

"Where do you see yourself in another five years? Where do you see us?"

"Five years?" This was not what she thought would come out of his mouth. "I don't know, why?"

"You haven't thought about it at all?" he asked, disappointedly.

"After everything that happened you know that I like to take things one day at a time," Ginny said. She'd decided after the situation with Voldemort, when she could see no way out, that she wouldn't spend time dwelling on what might be, but take full advantage of what the present offered. Harry had agreed with her at one time, but . . .

"There comes a time when you have to stop thinking that way, Gin. I've been thinking about us a lot lately and I don't like that we're stuck in a rut. Are you really happy not going anywhere?

Ginny had a strange sense that it really should have been she who was asking these questions. Before everything with Voldemort she might have been the one who was asking them, but things had changed. She gave Harry a truthful answer she felt he would not like at all.

"I'm happy with the way things have been for the last few months. We're still young enough that we don't need to rush into anything."

"Five years is hardly rushing things. Things could change tomorrow and I don't want to regret what we didn't do. We can't stay in one place forever."

Ginny started to feel queasy. She knew that Harry was going to give her some sort of ultimatum. She also knew that she both wanted to hear it and didn't want to. She'd be forced to make a decision and either start something she wasn't sure she was ready for, or . . . After everything they'd been through the thought of walking away from everything made it hard to breathe.

"Are you saying that either I tell you what you want to hear – that I'll move in, or – or its over?" she asked with some difficulty. Harry, too, seemed a bit taken aback by her question, but he didn't take as long to answer as she did to ask it.

"I'm saying that after all the stuff with Voldemort I wanted to stop putting everything on hold. I can't keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know that you're a big part of my life, Ginny. It's not going to work if we want two different things."

"We want the same things," she said quickly.

"I'm not so sure."

"Just because I don't want to run off and get married tomorrow –" Ginny started to say, frustrated and upset at this whole conversation.

"I don't want to do that either. I just want to make sure we're going somewhere, and in the same direction." He paused for a minute and stared at her. Ginny wanted to look away but found she couldn't. She was paralyzed by shock. "Can you at least promise me that you'll think about what I said?"

She nodded, knowing that she'd have a hard time doing anything else now.


	12. The Hand She Was Forced To Play

"Weasley!"

Ginny was startled back to present by the volume and sharpness of Jordana's tone.

"Yeah?" she asked tentatively, knowing that Jordana was beyond losing patience with her; she was livid. Her anger was completely understandable. Ever since the night at Ron and Hermione's Ginny had presided over most everything, including Quidditch, with a distinct lack of interest. It wasn't that she had actually lost her enthusiasm for the other things in her life, it was just that the only thing she could focus on was the conversation she'd had with Harry.

"If Weasley is ready to join the rest of her team, we'll start drills."

Everyone looked at Ginny with an equal mixture of annoyance and pity. She wasn't sure which she loathed more.

Ginny promised herself that she would focus on training for the rest of the day but that lasted all of ten minutes. Abdullah received the Quaffle from Keddle and passed it to Ginny, who had been sitting idle for a little too long and had already lost her concentration. It was Jordana's shout of "Oi, Weasley" that brought Ginny's attention to the fact the Quaffle was speeding towards her, but it was already too late to catch it. She dove down to retrieve the ball before it hit the ground and when she returned to her former position, she was greeted with another round annoyed looks from all of her teammates.

They shortly moved away from drills and got into position for some actual practice. Jordana and Gwenog flew off to talk with Keddle. When they returned, Gwenog had the Quaffle under her arm.

"Are we _all_ ready to go?" she asked, looking particularly at Ginny, who nodded along with the others keeping her eye on the Quaffle. She caught it perfectly when it was thrown and sped off towards the goal. Intent upon putting that ball through the hoop and doing at least one thing right this practice she spared no attention for anything else, with the result that she smashed hard into someone. The force of her crash threw her off course a little and it took her a moment to regain control of her broom. A whistle blew from somewhere behind her.

"Weasley, what the hell was that?" Jordana shouted. Ginny barely had time to turn her broom around when the rest of the team converged on her. At least she thought it was her they were approaching until she turned and saw Howard, one of the Beaters, clutching her arm against her body. "Damn it, Weasley. She's not really an opponent."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ginny replied, coming over. Everyone backed away a few feet. "I didn't see you there, Howard."

The rest of the team looked as if they didn't trust what she was saying. They continued to give her a wide berth while Gwenog and Jordana, after a quick examination of the injury, accompanied Howard to one of the team's two mediwizards. When they didn't return right away Ginny and the others landed and walked over to the benches closest to the changing rooms.

"You going to use that move when you play the Tornadoes on Friday?" Colin asked, sitting down beside Ginny without invitation. "Their Beaters could use a good bone-crushing."

"Shut up," she said, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes. This was the ultimate blunder in a month full of them. She'd dropped the Quaffle more times than she could count, impeded the others from executing some of their best moves, and nearly fallen of her broom, but breaking Howard's wrist was by far the worst thing she'd done. This could very well damage their chances for the finals, exacerbating her teammates frustration with her, she was sure.

"You've been off your game for weeks now. What's going on?"

She made no effort to address Colin's statement or his question. The only answer that she could give was the last one she wanted to. Her life was falling apart, that was the crux of the problem. Not only did that sound overly dramatic even in her head but also it would elicit scorn or sympathy, neither of which she wanted to deal with. It was best to say nothing and handle her problems quietly.

"Ginny?" Colin snapped his fingers.

"Yeah." She shook her head and continued with the closest truth she could think of without telling him everything. "Nothing's wrong. I've just been having trouble sleeping."

That was an understatement. Not sleeping would have been the more appropriate statement. Ever since her conversation with Harry several weeks before, the only thing her brain wanted to do was dwell on her promise. She was definitely living up to her agreement to think things over; that was for sure.

"I don't buy it. You've gone without sleep before and you've been nowhere near this bad. What is it? Are you and Harry having another row?"

"Not exactly," she mumbled. They hadn't been arguing, but they hadn't exactly been civil to each other either. At least Harry hadn't been. He'd been too busy with work lately.

"But it does have to do with him then, doesn't it? I thought as much. What did he do now?"

"Nothing. Everything's perfect," she replied dispiritedly.

That was precisely the problem. For months things had been going so well and then all of a sudden they completely blew up. Harry had gone from saying that he was fine with their relationship to needing her to map out their future. It was such an about face that she shouldn't be faulted for her shock, should she?

The answer to that question was yes. Over the last few weeks Ginny had come to realize that she had everything she wanted: the career she'd wanted, great family and friends, and Harry, the only man she'd ever thought of having a future with. Her reluctance to move in would be more understandable if she hadn't been staying there all the time anyway. Why she was so terrified to move in and be done with it was still something she couldn't explain.

"It really sounds fine when you say it like that." Colin's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ginny stated, examining her broom handle. Over the last weeks she'd kept her conversation with Harry quiet. This was one thing that she did not want to have repetitious and circular conversations over; having it once with Harry had been bad enough.

"Ginny?" Colin's sarcasm was instantly replaced with concern. "Is something going on with you and Harry? Something serious, I mean."

Ginny felt a lump form painfully in her throat at the question. Keeping her eyes closed, she shook her head. No, nothing was going on and that, according to Harry, was precisely the issue. He hadn't mentioned anything else to her since their conversation several weeks ago. This, sick as it might sound, also troubled her. Harry wasn't generally known for mentioning something and then dropping the matter without another word.

"He's not taken up with that Briony girl you were telling me about, has he?" His expression was angry, somewhat like the one Ron wore when Ginny pushed her relationship with Harry too far in his presence. The familiar feeling it gave her almost caused a smile to form, something that hadn't happened in weeks.

"No, no, its nothing like that." While she still had her doubts about Briony, Ginny didn't think that fidelity was an issue. Harry might have forgiven the unfortunate relations, but it was unlikely he had completely forgotten who her aunt was. Although it would be an easier solution if Colin's suspicions were true (she wasn't above murder), it was highly improbable that Harry would be pressuring her to make a decision about moving in if he were carrying on with someone else.

"He'd better not be, because if he tries any rubbish like that, I'll hex him into the next millennium. Your brothers won't get the chance to do anything."

Ginny managed a weak smile and leaned over to give Colin a quick peck on the cheek. His ferocious tone had prompted her action. She knew that he could never follow through with his threat due to his lack of skill at dueling (she could disarm him without breaking a sweat). Nevertheless, the thought he would try was endearing, especially given how he used to idolize Harry. Thankfully he'd calmed down in the years since they'd left Hogwarts.

Over the next few minutes Colin continued to ply Ginny with questions about what was ailing her all of which she deflected. It was becoming harder and harder to avoid the subject though and as such she was grateful when Jordana and Gwenog made their reappearance.

"How's Howard?" Keddle asked, turning her back to Ginny. "She's going to be all right for Friday's game, right?"

"Miediwizard Ikey says she'll be fit for practice tomorrow, but she wants her to go home and rest tonight. I think it's a good idea for all of us to do the same, therefore practice is over," Jordana said. Everyone got up slowly and began to leave. Ginny had just stood when Jordana called, "Weasley, come to my office."

Swallowing painfully, Ginny said goodbye to Colin, advised him against waiting and trudged to the office to receive her sentence.

"Sit down, Weasley." Jordana perched on the edge of her desk.

Ginny sat. The disparity in her position as compared with Jordana and Gwenog's did nothing to ease her apprehension.

"So . . . mind telling us what you were thinking out there? You've never even crashed into an opponent that hard," Gwenog observed from her place at the door.

"I didn't see her," Ginny explained again. "I was just focusing on scoring. She's really going to be OK, right?" Face to face with the angry looks on both her captain and manager's faces made Ginny fight against the urge to cower. They already had cause to be upset with her over how she had been performing during practice, and the last game they'd played. She'd only scored one goal, and that had been an accident. She twice prevented Gwenog and King from scoring. Thankfully they'd still won by thirty points, but that was only because they had been playing the Cannons. If it had been the Tornadoes or Puddlemere they would have been lucky to have only lost by that many points.

"I already said she'll be fine by tomorrow. Can I say the same about you?" Jordana inquired curtly. "Or am I to expect a repeat performance?"

"No. I'll be more careful in the future. I just – I haven't been sleeping well. I'll work on getting more." Ginny knew this excuse would go over worse with Jordana than it had with Colin, but as she had thought before, she wasn't going to tell them anything about her relationship with Harry. Too much of it had already been in the papers. If the likes of Rita Skeeter got the tiniest scent of what was going on . . . Telling Jordana would cause more problems than it could possibly solve.

"You'd better. I don't want any more of these bullshit excuses. If you're having trouble sleeping I'd suggest a dreamless sleep potion. Or have you already been taking one?"

"No."

It had been years since Harry had kept that particular potion near at hand. She could certainly ask her mother or buy her own, but the high probability that she'd be interrogated had prevented her from asking her mother, and Ginny didn't want to deal with any far-fetched news stories about why she needed the potion in the first place. Jordana eyed her shrewdly for a minute.

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

"No."

Why did everyone always make that the first assumption?

She could have been wrong, but Ginny thought Jordana looked disappointed by her answer. It would certainly simplify the troubles she was having with her Quidditch performance in the short term, but long term she wasn't sure the Harpies would be happy with her taking time off, especially if she could return to her former good performance. She wasn't even going to contemplate the complications it would bring to other areas of her life.

"You're sure?" Gwenog asked, also eyeing her appraisingly. "If you are, we need to start putting in your backup now. With us so close to –"

"I'm not pregnant!" Nor could she possibly be if things didn't change with Harry. Not that she was going to tell Jordana and Gwenog that.

"Be sure to keep it that way, at least until after the finals. We have a good chance of making it this year." At this thought Jordana's whole aspect changed. She smirked. "If you want I could put a jinx on Potter's –"

"That won't be necessary," Ginny interrupted, putting up her hand. "I don't think that sort of thing will be a problem."

She'd said too much. Jordana and Gwenog exchanged looks. It was a brief glance, but Ginny had a feeling that they were going to be discussing her after she left. They might have extrapolated the fact that she and Harry were having problems from her comment.

"I'll see you back here tomorrow, well rested. Go to Ikey and get a dreamless sleep potion before you leave."

Ginny did as she was told. Tovah Ikey, one of the Harpies two Mediwizards (or was she a mediwitch?) greeted her as she walked in. She jumped to her feet, standing about a head shorter than Ginny, but her tightly curled hair stood an inch over Ginny's head. This mass of dark black hair was the butt of several jokes, including the idea that Ikey's lifelong ambition was to do a personal imitation of the Muggle device called a kite. When Ginny explained what she was there for, Ikey looked her over.

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

"No," Ginny stated impatiently. If one more person asked her that question . . . This was almost as bad as if she had asked her mother after all.

Instead of being dissuaded by Ginny's tone, Ikey, who had reached into a cupboard to pull out the purple potion, smiled sympathetically.

"Sometimes the most useful cure for insomnia isn't a potion at all. Many times we can't sleep because there is something that is troubling us and better results are obtained by talking. Would you like to talk about what's been keeping you up at night, Ginevra?"

"Its Ginny, and no. I'm just stressed about the playoffs. It will all be fine once they're over," she lied smoothly, barely disguising the disgust she felt at being called Ginevra. Only her mother and father could call her that without Ginny feeling the urge to vomit. She reached out to take the bottle. "It was Jordana's request that I use the potion."

Ikey, looking as though it went against all of her better judgments, handed the bottle over. She hung on for a moment longer though, intent on getting in one last word.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind. I also would like you to stop using this potion and come to see me immediately if you do believe that you are pregnant."

"Thank you." Ginny took the bottle and with a quick spin of her heel she Disapparated.

Not surprisingly the flat was quiet when she stepped in. Harry was still at work and Dudley's door was closed. She assumed he was still sleeping. It _was_ only two in the afternoon after all. That was practically daybreak to Dudley.

Throwing the potion on the table and her cloak over the back of the closest kitchen chair, Ginny looked around. She hadn't expected to be back this early and now didn't know what to do. She had no appetite. She'd been up early enough to clean so she couldn't pass the time that way. It was no use trying to sleep because she'd just toss and turn.

Eventually, after catching sight of a splash of mud on her robes (and cursing the fact she'd forgot to change) she decided to take a shower. Maybe the warm water would help her relax. She retrieved a change of clothes from Harry's room and set herself up in the bathroom. She pointed her wand and muttered "colloportus" under her breath as she also undid the clasp on her robes. Dudley might be a changed man, but with the way he had been acting over the last few weeks she wasn't taking any chances.

As she turned to step into the shower Ginny noticed a dark spot on her arm. Upon closer inspection she saw a huge purple bruise near her left shoulder. This was where she had made impact with Howard. It was a nasty shade of purple, but surprisingly it didn't hurt. She reached out and pressed a finger to the darkest part, immediately sucking in air through her teeth.

So much for it not hurting.

It was a good thing she hadn't noticed this before. Ikey would have kept her there all afternoon, applying various healing methods. Ginny grabbed her wand and pointed it at the injury, muttering the few healing spells she knew. The bruise didn't disappear entirely, but it faded to a sickly yellow colour.

"That'll have to do," she said to herself, dropping her wand back onto the sink before stepping into the stream of hot water.

How long she stood there, Ginny wasn't wholly sure. It could have been minutes, or nearly an hour. Only when the water started to turn cold did she step out, wrapping herself in one of the few clean towels. She listened for a minute to see if there was movement in the rest of the flat yet, but everything was still silent.

Since it seemed there was no rush, she began combing her hair and, as had been the case with the past few weeks, she found herself thinking about Harry and what sort of mood he'd be in when he returned. She had noticed that his mood was getting worse everyday. He blamed it solely on the fact that, though the task force was now working shifts, following up on "dead end leads" as he called them, they were still no further on to finding Justin Finch-Fletchley, who conjured that Dark Mark, or a location of Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. While his aggravation was well justified over his work, Ginny couldn't help but wonder how much was actually work related, and how much was personal.

Things had been different between them since that talk, which had been almost five weeks earlier. Harry barely talked to her. When she tried to talk to him he would tell her he just had to "finish reading this report", or they'd talk in the morning. She had gone to bed more than once without talking, or woke-up to find Harry had already left. The task force had been burning the candle until all hours since the events at the Ministry, and it was easy to see that Harry was exhausted, so Ginny was trying to be a little more understanding than she might otherwise have been but her own sense of frustration was starting to peak. Harry had been gone since early this morning though, so maybe tonight he'd have a reprieve and they could talk. What she was going to say was another matter entirely.

Her hair once again knot free, Ginny tied it back in a ponytail and turned to reach for the clothes she'd brought with her when all of a sudden the doorknob turned and the door swung open.

That was odd. Hadn't she locked it?

The question was driven from her mind when she saw it was not Harry standing on the other side of the door, as she had hoped, but Dudley, who was removing his hand from his pocket.

Her hand went automatically to the towel that was her only source of coverage at the moment. She was painfully aware of how short the towel was as she grasped for her wand, trying to ignore the fact that his eyes were traveling up her body.

"Get out," she hissed.

He didn't move, instead looking at her, almost smiling, a chillingly familiar look of pleasure in his eyes.

"Get out," she repeated, more forcefully, pointing her wand at him. For a full two seconds she thought he wasn't going to move. Raising her wand in preparation to stun him, Ginny clung to the towel so tightly her knuckles ached.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were in here," Dudley replied unconvincingly before backing away. Ginny didn't wait for him to disappear before she slammed the door.

"Colloportus," she said loudly, her voice echoing over the ceramic tiles. The lock gave a satisfyingly loud click, but she tried it away.

Definitely locked.

Leaning against the door she berated herself for forgetting to lock it in the first place. She'd been too worried about her bruise to check the door.

The image of Dudley standing on the other side of the door was seared into her brain now, all details included. It had only taken Ginny a split second to realize her intruder hadn't been Harry. He, at least, would have knocked before trying the door. He wouldn't have barged in even if the door were unlocked in the first place. Dudley, however, was another matter, which was . . . why she had locked up. When the door first swung open Dudley had been tucking something into his pocket. Ginny was ready to bet that it was his wand. He'd let himself in, probably hoping to see more than he had. That triumphant expression he had worn confirmed it.

Feeling like she might be sick, Ginny sunk to the floor, still leaning against the door. Pulling her knees up to her chest she grabbed her bunched up Quidditch robes and threw them over herself like a blanket. She tried to focus on returning her breathing to normal, but it was hard when her heart was racing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of that hungry expression in Dudley Dursley's eyes, but the harder she tried the more pronounced it became. The harder she shook her head, or rubbed her eyes the more vivid the image was until she was seeing, not a blond-haired, blue-eyed git, but a bald, skeletally white face, with scarlet eyes and no lips. That same satisfied, sinister smile filled her entire visual field.

"_Thank you, Ginevra. Your information will be quite useful indeed. You see, I have big plans for Harry Potter, and you have just given me the key."_

_She could not squirm out of the reach of the long spider-like finger as he ran it down the side of her face. When she shivered he laughed, an entirely chilling sound._

"_You may rest now, Ginevra. We don't want Harry to think you're being mistreated now do we?"_

_With a wave of his wand, the enchantments holding her in place were released and Ginny crumpled onto the cold dungeon floor. Voldemort turned and vanished up the winding staircase. She curled up in a ball and silently let the tears fall._

Expecting the feel the cold and dark of Snape's dungeon, Ginny was momentarily blinded by all the white porcelain around her.

"He's dead," she said, standing up, using the door for support. She quickly dressed, threw her Quidditch robes and the towel into the laundry, grabbed her wand and marched out of the loo.

After the Voldemort thing she had promised herself that she would not let a situation arise where she felt powerless again. Drudging up the past because of someone like Dudley Dursley was unacceptable. She would handle this once and for all.

Dudley was sprawled on the sofa, watching a television programme Ginny didn't recognize. Ignoring that, she walked over to the sofa, stepped between it and the television, and pointed her wand in Dudley's face. It took a moment for him to meet her eyes.

"Oh, good, you're out. I was just going to come and ask – sorry about walking in on you earlier. I just thought . . . since it wasn't locked –"

"It was locked," Ginny interrupted, inching her wand a little closer to his face. "I specifically locked it to prevent you doing exactly what you did. Don't bother denying it. I saw you tucking your wand back into your pocket."

Dudley's hand convulsed and reached for the pocket, she was sure his wand was in.

"I just thought that it was locked in error. I –"

Ginny touched her wand to his nose and leaned in a little closer.

"I don't want to hear any of your damned excuses. I know you did it on purpose. If you try anything like it again I'll make you wish you'd been Bat Bogeyed again. Remember, Dudley, I have six brothers. I know spells that have particularly unpleasant effects on blokes."

She left Dudley contemplating those nasty things and escaped into Harry's room, where she made extra sure she had locked the door, set up a shield charm, just to be safe, and then tried to get some rest. She regretted leaving the bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion on the kitchen table, but was where it was going to stay.

Ginny didn't fall asleep but she did slip into a daze after a while. Within a half an hour of barricading herself in Harry's room she heard the familiar sounds of Dudley preparing to go out. It seemed rather early for that, but she wasn't going to question it. The farther away he was, the safer he would be.

Her watch, sitting on the table beside the alarm clock, ticked away the seconds. Ginny tried to count them but soon she was fighting with her subconscious, which wanted to relive the past.

Whenever she thought she had a handle on the situation and tried to relax, some other unwanted memory would assault her. She thought that getting out of bed and doing something would help, but the few times she tried to stand up she felt weak-kneed and queasy and had to lie down again, her head a confusion of personal recollections and those that she had been forced to recall to suit the game Voldemort had been playing with Harry.

"Gin?"

Harry's voice.

A memory of Harry, standing in the room she had shared with Hermione at Grimmauld Place, looking at her nervously and asking, "are you sure?"

"Damn it, Ginny!"

Also Harry, but impatient; much more like his current self. She opened her eyes and saw an exhausted, unshaven, and generally disheveled Harry. He was staring in at her through a door that would only open a quarter of the way thanks to her charm.

"Sorry." With a wave of her wand she removed the shield.

"What the hell is that all about?"

"Long story."

She turned a light on as Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off his trainers.

"I've got time," he said, not looking at her as he began shedding the rest of his sweat-drenched garments. It was the first time he'd said anything like it in over a month. Half of her wanted to come right out with it, but she remembered how he had responded the last time she had told Harry about Dudley. She wasn't sure she could deal with his blasé attitude tonight.

"How about dinner first?" she asked, hoping he'd agree, that way she'd have something to do.

"I already ate," he replied. This was the same response she'd received over the last month. "Are you going to tell me why you shielded yourself in? Given things, I'd have thought it would be the other way around."

He'd been making snide comments for weeks as well. She'd largely ignored them, or threw one of her own back. After how she had spent her day, though, she was in no mood. Swallowing another lump in her throat, Ginny told Harry about her day, emphasizing the part Dudley had played, and leaving out the references to Voldemort. She'd never told anyone, especially Harry, exactly what had happened in that dungeon, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Did you actually see his wand?" Harry asked calmly when she had finished talking.

"No, but he admitted to using it."

Harry frowned and looked like he was thinking. Ginny hoped he wasn't trying to find a way to exonerate Dudley.

"I know he would have done something like that before, Gin, but he's changed. I think this is just a case of him not thinking. You're probably just overreacting after everything else that happened today. I'll talk to him if it makes you –"

"I am not overreacting," Ginny half-shouted, surprised at the shrillness of her own voice. Taking yet another deep breath, she continued in a shaky voice that was much closer to her own. "I know you want to believe he's changed, and maybe he has. But I know what I saw. After Voldemort I'd recognize that look anywhere."

She'd said too much again, but as she recalled the expression on Dudley's face, those horrible red eyes had appeared and she shuddered.

Harry, who had been busy cleaning his glasses, at last gave her his full attention.

"What does Dudley have to do with Voldemort?"

Ginny shook her head and looked away, swallowing again. The lump in her throat seemed to be growing exponentially and she was starting to have trouble breathing. They weren't going to have this conversation.

"Gin?" Harry's voice was unrecognizable from what it had been even a moment before. Disinterest and weariness were gone, replaced by an alert concern. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid.

"You know what?" she said angrily, swinging her leap over the edge of the bed and standing. "I think you're right about Dudley. I've been tired lately. I probably just imagined it. Maybe I'll sleep better at the Burrow."

She didn't even make it to the door before Harry grabbed her arm.

"Forget Dudley. What about Voldemort? I thought we agreed that if either of us had a bad dream or anything –"

"It wasn't a dream. Like I said . . . "

Harry fixed her with a disbelieving look. "Don't do this, Ginny. Just tell me. Why did Dudley and what he did make you start having visions of Voldemort?"

"No," she said, working to pry his fingers off her arm. She wasn't having much luck.

"No? Gin, we swore there'd be no secrets."

"We also said to let the past live in the past. Can't you just leave it? It's not going to change what happened."

This was the wrong thing to say again. She still had her own hand on Harry's, but she'd stopped trying to pry his fingers off, instead watching as he tried to find the link. She guessed he was contemplating some horrible things because his grip on her arm was becoming more painful by the minute. He was oblivious to her squirming.

When she was at a point of hexing him to force Harry to let go, he did so of his own accord and instead took her face in his hands, a pained expression in his eyes.

"I know you told me no before, but please tell me the truth this time. Did he –"

Ginny shook her head. That, thank god, was the absolute truth.

"What about . . . other things?" The cringe was as clear, it not clearer, in Harry's voice as it was in his expression. She couldn't stand having to put Harry through asking all these questions. So Ginny decided to tell him a little, knowing full well that it would probably lead to more questions, eventually breaking the protective barrier she'd placed around those thoughts, the one that had cracked this afternoon because of Dudley.

"He didn't make me do anything _to_ or _with_ him. He just wanted me so he could get to you. That's nothing new."

A mixed expression of relief and confusion formed on Harry's face.

"The Cruciatus curse was the only spell he used? I don't get it, Gin. What does that have to do with Dudley?"

"No. Not just the Cruciatus. Legillimency," she replied quietly. This news took a moment to penetrate Harry's consciousness after which an apprehensive expression overtook the others.

"What was he looking for?"

"Something to use as a bargaining chip." Ginny closed her eyes so she didn't have to look at Harry. It was the only way she could remain calm. "D'you remember what he said the last time he contacted you in that mirror?"

This time recognition and understanding was almost instant. Ginny wasn't surprised. She had been privy to that particular conversation and the insinuations that Voldemort had made. They had been responsible for finally driving Harry over the edge and coming to find her.

Harry swallowed.

"He – he forced that out of you, did he?" She reluctantly nodded. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Gin."

He had his arms around her before she realized what was happening. She didn't object. It hadn't taken much for her resolve to break, which was generally the case with Harry. This had been the one thing that she had kept from him, knowing that he wouldn't take it well. Now he knew though, she worried that Harry would start to relapse and decide once more that it wasn't safe for them to be together. For the first time all day the lump in her throat sunk down into her stomach, and she once again felt her legs ready to give out. After all they had been through she would not, could not, let him go again.

With a tremendous effort she pushed aside every other thought, Ginny kissed Harry passionately, pulling him close to her so that she could whisper in his ear, "I've decided. Yes, I'll move in with you."

He froze, before slowly pulling away from her, looking concerned again.

"You've just decided this now?"

"Yes. I've realized that you were right. I'm already living here in all but – what?"

Harry sat down on the bed and patted the spot beside him. Ginny sat, wondering what could possibly be the problem now.

"The timing's a little strange, Gin, I can't deny that." He looked down at his knees for a minute, taking her hand in his. Ginny felt a stab of impatience, wanting to know why he was now recanting his request. "I don't think we should rush into this. You were right about that. There are so many things we still need to work out."

"Like what?"

"Well . . . like where Dudley's going to go, for example. I've still got some work to do with Kreacher. If Dudley's going to stay there perhaps we shouldn't have to worry about Kreacher doing him in."

Ginny hadn't even given any thought to what would happen with Dudley. The idea of having him in another house increased her desire to move in. The sooner, the better.

"We can work that out later, can't we?"

Harry smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

"Who would have thought a month ago that I'd be convincing you not to move in."

"I don't understand. You were upset earlier when you thought I wasn't ready to move in. Now I am, you think it's a bad idea?" Ginny was starting to let her frustration show.

"You seemed to think it was a bad idea until five minutes ago, Gin. If you're moving in because you're scared or something . . . That's the wrong reason, isn't it. At least sleep on it and we'll discuss it tomorrow."

Feeling close to anger and tears, Ginny stood up and left the room. She was halfway to the fireplace when Harry asked her where she was going.

"Home," she said duly, feeling like she had run the emotional gamut, and knowing she couldn't spare any more emotion tonight.

"Gin, don't leave like this," he said, not coming closer, but giving her a pleading look.

"Why?" she stilled, with her hand outstretched for the Floo powder.

"After what you just told me . . . I want to make sure you're safe, and that you're OK." He came a few steps closer.

"I don't need your protection, Harry." She stood still as a statue.

"Maybe I need yours then," he replied, stopping just in front of her and running his fingers through her hair. Without meaning to, Ginny closed her eyes. Her mind was telling her to go back to the Borrow, but her hands betrayed her, fisting in his hair and kissing him back passionately, stopping only once to will herself not to allow any less than pleasant memories to intrude. Her whole focus was the blissful present. Right now she had no past, a wonderful thought.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, some time later, reaching for his glasses. Removing her bra from on top of the alarm clock, Ginny relayed the time as twelve-thirty.

"How early do you have to be at work?" he asked, strolling out of the room to pick up their trail of discarded clothing.

"Not too early, Ginny replied, resetting the alarm. She knew exactly what that tone meant. Smiling, she grabbed her wand from the table where she had set it after removing the shield charm hours earlier. With a few well-practiced waves she renewed a different kind of protective spell.

When Harry returned he wore a serious expression.

"What?" she asked, wondering what could have possibly happened in the ten seconds he was gone to give him that look again.

Harry crawled back into bed, kissed her, and said "I've just realized that even though you had to go through that horrible ordeal with Voldemort, he's dead now, so it's only us who knows."

Ginny smiled, hoping that she could repeat that feeling of obliviousness for the second time in the night. Harry's thought was one worth holding onto, even though it wasn't true.


	13. The Quidditch SemiFinal

It was hard to believe it was nearing the end of June. Not so very long ago the flat had been like an icebox, now it wanted to be a sauna. Harry had kicked the covers off sometime during the night. They were bunched at the bottom of the bed. Even so, he was still sticky with sweat.

"I thought you were never going to get up," Ginny said. Without his glasses he could only see a blurry red shape hovering over him. "You said you wanted to be up early."

"Yeah." Harry reached out for his glasses, which she placed in his hand. "Thanks."

One of the benefits of summer was the longer daylight hours. This morning it afforded Harry the opportunity to see Ginny clearly. The room was filled with a steely blue. It was just after dawn and so he couldn't be sure if Ginny was really as pale as she appeared but she looked ghostly white and tired.

"Are you sick?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head.

"I'm just tired. I had a hard time getting to sleep last night. Nervous about the game."

"Sure," he agreed

It was absolutely reasonable that Ginny would be nervous. Over the last month the Harpies had been on spectacular form and were now one of the top five Quidditch teams. If they won their game against Puddlemere United tonight they'd clinch a spot in the World cup finals. As the Harpies best scorer, there was a lot of pressure on Ginny to put on a good game. Nevertheless, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't looking ashen due to pre-match jitters.

"You'd better get up or you'll be late for Moody." She leaned down and gave him a kiss.

"Try and get some rest," Harry advised, holding her arms to prevent her getting up. "You'll need all your strength if you're going to give Wood a run for his money."

"I'll try," she said, standing up. "I'll see you later?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Thirty minutes later, Harry stepped out of the Apparition area at Auror headquarters. It was only seven a.m. but the office was abuzz with activity. It was always like that these days. People were running scared and this translated to pressure on their case. The public was growing impatient. Three months and no news of Justin! What were the Aurors doing? Kingsley and Moody in particular were under pressure to get results, meaning longer hours for everyone involved. This was why he was here at seven a.m. They were to have another meeting and then be out the door, following up on the plethora of tips they had been getting.

Much as Harry didn't like being involved with this case, since he had known Justin at Hogwarts, and Hermione's current relationship with him, he was hoping that one of the many tips they were getting would lead to the capture of Justin's captors. Though he tried to remain optimistic, Harry was sure that Justin wasn't going to be found alive. The odds dwindled the longer he was missing and a great many days had passed since he had been abducted.

The eight members of the task force, including Dawlish (Hermione was talking with Kingsley) all sat down straight away. Harry looked around at his colleagues. They were all in various states of exhaustion, none more so than Briony.

Harry couldn't really say he was surprised at Briony's state of tiredness. Given all the interviews they had been doing lately, she'd been here all hours of the day and night, filing, categorizing, and who knew what else. Harry noticed that Tougas was also looking at her with concern. Brazill caught his eye, wearing a knowing smile. Before he could inquire into the meaning of her expression, Moody started talking.

"We've received a stack of new reports from many of the public about reported signings of Lestrange and Malfoy. Given recent interviews, we'll be very lucky if even one of these turns out to be valid, but . . . " He let those words hang for a minute. "Dawlish will be out in the field today - Miss. Granger will be spending her day in my company. You can each take a report and talk to these people. Potter, I want you to take Miss. Wright with you."

Harry, who had been momentarily distracted by the idea of Hermione being without her guard (surely the reason for Moody's comment about guarding her himself) was driven completely distracted by the thought of being out on his own, let alone the idea of having Briony with him. Thus far, he had been partnering with everyone; except Tougas, as they made these trips out.

"Me?" Briony asked, exchanging a look with Harry before turning her attention to Moody, a little more uncertainty in her gaze.

"I don't like it," Tougas said fiercely. "She's not an Auror, Mad-Eye. Why's she –"

"We're just questioning people. Its not as if is any danger, Tougas" Brazill piped up. I think, given how much she knows, she'd be an asset. Hell, I'd take her myself if I'd thought of it before."

At Brazill's comment Briony blushed and looked down at the stack of papers in front of her.

"I agree," Moody said. "If I didn't, I wouldn't send her. We are not in the habit of endangering our employees, Tougas."

A doubtful sneer appeared on Tougas's face. Harry expected some comment about how they had hired him: the walking danger. Surprisingly, Tougas said nothing, instead turning his attention to Briony. Harry and Brazill glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. He seemed concerned for Briony, an emotion they didn't know Tougas was capable of.

"You know what's needed. Take a scroll and get to work."

Each of the scrolls of parchment looked the same. Harry looked to Briony to see if she had a preference as to which he should choose. She wasn't anywhere near him though. Tougas had dragged her off into a corner and was speaking rapidly, a frown on his face. The level of noise in the room as people moved around, chatting to each other, meant that Harry had no chance of hearing what Tougas was saying. Normally he wouldn't care, but the fact he looked legitimately upset was fascinating.

The room started to empty and Harry, not wanting anyone to find out he was listening, moved with them, but he walked a little slower than the rest. He was rewarded for his imitation of a turtle when, just as he stepped out the door, their conversation became more heated, their voices louder.

"I won't be in any danger," Briony stated in an exasperated voice. "Besides that, when are you going to realize that I don't need you watching over me all the time? I can take care of myself."

"Like you did when you tried to apprehend Amycus Carrow?"

Silence followed this question. Harry had to resist his urge to peek in and see what was going on. He knew, of course, that Scrimgeour had allowed every Ministry employee to apprehend Death Eaters, but he hadn't known that Briony had been among those who tried. He was even more thankful that Kingsley had more sense than his predecessor. Briony was brilliant with facts and figures, but her wand work was severely lacking.

"That was stupid, I grant you. But this is not a Death Eater, and I won't be alone. I'll have –"

"Potter? You think you'll be safe with Potter? Haw many times do I have to tell you he's dangerous?"

"He is not!" She sounded exasperated. After a pause she continued in a more sympathetic tone. "You're just clinging to old hurts."

"What?" Tougas asked, even louder than before. "This has nothing to do with my past, Briony. It has to do with the fact that he's careless, a menace to those around him. If he allowed anything to happen to you –" 

"I don't have time for this. I'll talk to you later."

Harry barely had time to move and pretend he had been leaning against the other wall the whole time before Briony appeared. She eyed him as though she already knew he had been listening.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, watching him with her arms crossed. Harry debated about lying but decided against it. He nodded.

"Hmph," she said again, walking away as quickly as her legs would carry her. Harry followed easily. When they were a safe distance away, he asked her what the conversation with Tougas had been about. She hesitated for a half dozen steps and then she turned and said, in an angry whisper, "You Gryffindors are all alike. You seem to think we can't defend ourselves." Then she continued walking.

Harry contemplated her statement. If he wasn't mistaken, Briony was paraphrasing one of his least favorite of Hermione's observations (that he had a "saving people thing"), but she didn't seem to be talking only about him. Could she possibly mean that Tougas had also been a Gryffindor? 

Harry groaned. Suddenly his former house at Hogwarts didn't seem as great. Then again, the sorting had had placed the likes of Peter Pettigrew there, so it didn't always choose the best witches and wizards.

The parchment Harry had grabbed contained less information than he would have thought. It was a statement sent in by a witch by the name of Hera Crane. Reading over her account, Harry thought he could already see how this visit was going to go. She seemed a fussy sort, probably with a lot of cats.

"Ready to go?" Briony asked for the seventh time in fifteen minutes. She had already read the report and was hovering over Harry, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He was finding this behaviour amusing and therefore distracting. Finally though, he finished reading and prepared to go. Briony bounded ahead of him, reminding Harry of Sirius the first time he had been out of Grimmauld Place. Briony spent enough time here that her excitement about leaving was understandable.

"Shall we?" Harry asked as they entered the Apparition area. He would have offered his arm, but after her comment on Tougas's reaction, he decided against it.

Briony strode confidently into the Apparition area.

"See you there," she said and twisted, shortly disappearing. Harry followed suit.

When he was able to draw breath he was standing on a rubbish strewn walkway that reminded him very much like Grimmauld Place. The heat of the day was doing nothing to improve the environment. Harry looked around for Briony, hoping to get away from the stench as quickly as possible, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Wondering if she had just landed badly, he peered around a large rubbish bin, behind several stacks of boxes that had been piled against a wall and, for good measure, up, to see if she was peering down from on top of one of the two houses that were towering over him.

When Harry still didn't see Briony anywhere he began to run through the possible scenarios that would prevent her from being here. Had she Apparated to the wrong place, or perhaps Splinched herself and was injured somewhere? If that were the case how could he possibly find her?

He began walking up the walkway towards the street, decided to check and see if Briony had misjudged their Apparition point and was one or two alleys over.

There you are," Briony called, coming around the corner. "I was wondering if I'd lost you."

"What d'you mean? We were supposed to meet in the walkway, away from prying eyes."

Briony looked a little sheepish at Harry's comment and mumbled that she had been trying to Apparate to their predetermined spot, but had overshot it a bit.

"I guess I need to work on accuracy. Usually I'm bang on, but today I guess I was too eager to leave."

"You do have to be careful," Harry agreed as they began walking up the street, looking for number thirty-six. "If you landed in a crowd of people there would be some serious paperwork."

The street they were walking down stood near the edge of Chatham. The buildings were very close to the street and overhung the small sidewalk. Windows stood open, although there wasn't much of a breeze to cool the interiors.

Number thirty-six was a house like all others, standing in the middle of a row. It was not the structure, but rather the interesting choice of landscaping that solidified Harry and Briony's certainty that they were in the right place.

While all the other lawns were neatly manicured, or at most in need of a slight trim, Hera Crane's yard was a good replica of the garden at the Burrow. The grass was at least a foot longer than the other yards, and looked as though all sorts of creatures could be hiding in it. Harry was almost positive he saw a Bowtruckle scramble up a tree. That was definitely a violation of the statute of secrecy. It would be a near miracle for the creature go unnoticed.

"Charming," Briony said in a distracted voice, as she looked around the yard her hand on the brick fence. "This should be fun, don't you think?"

"Yeah."

Harry led the way down the garden path, keeping one eye on the rapidly approaching door, and one eye on Briony. He hoped that a slight miscalculation in her Apparition was the worst thing that happened today. He had a fleeting vision of his wand flying out at his hand as Neville Longbottom tried to disarm a Death Eater. If anything like that happened here . . .

But why should it? They were only here to question an old woman about a potential, and unlikely, sighting of Malfoy and Lestrange.

The door was flung open when they were still ten feet away. A humped-back old woman with curly blue-gray hair stared at them through spectacles perched on the end of her hooked nose. She clutched a rickety looking wand between frail fingers.

"Identify yourselves," she called in a high-pitched, scratchy voice. "I warn you, if you try anything you'll be sorry."

Harry pulled his own wand from his pocket and kept it ready at his side.

"Mrs. Crane, we're here from the Ministry to discuss your statement," he said, stepping ahead of Briony.

The elder witch dropped her wand and straightened up infinitesimally. She adjusted her glasses and squinted at Harry and Briony who were now standing on her stoop.

"You look a little young to be an Auror, sonny," she said. "How do you know – Oh."

Harry pulled the scroll out of his pocket and showed it to her. When she recognized her own handwriting a small smile appeared on her aged features.

Though she might be pleased they were there she didn't relax her suspicion when it came to her two visitors.

"Do you mind if we come in, m'am?" Briony asked.

The old woman reacted quickly, pointing her wand in Briony's face, her jaw set.

"I do mind, missy. You still haven't told me who you are."

"This, Mrs. Crane, is Briony Wright, and I'm Harry Potter." He held out his hand but he old woman's head had snapped up to give him a once over. When she caught sight of his scar she gave another pronounced, "oh," and immediately shuffled into her house, muttering to herself. Harry and Briony were left to stand in the doorway exchanging looks.

"Do you think that means we can go in?" Harry asked, flattening his hair. Briony shrugged. Returning the gesture Harry took the plunge.

The hallway was a deep pink colour, with flowered wallpaper, and a dark wainscoting. Several half-round tables were covered in doilies, knick-knacks and elaborate flower arrangements. The air was stale, as though the windows hadn't been open for years.

"I think she and my aunt used the same decorator," Briony whispered as they squeezed into a sitting room crowded with furniture. Harry bumped into a table covered with what looked like different sized crystal balls, and at the same time they heard a large crash from the kitchen.

"Mrs. Crane?" Briony called.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," the croaky voice called irritably. "I'll bring you tea in a minute. Sit down. Don't touch anything!"

That was easier said than done. The coffee table was pushed up to the sofa, leaving only six inches between the two. Harry and Briony banged their shins as they tried to sit down without knocking any of the knick-knacks taking up all of the table's surface.

"She's definitely been speaking with my aunt," Briony said, adjusting her robes. "This is Aunt Dolores's house except she's gone for roses instead of kittens."

It was an uncomfortable wait, but finally Mrs. Crane appeared, with a tray with a teapot and cups on it.

"So . . .you sure took your time coming here, you did," she said, sitting down. "I was beginning to think that Mad-Eye Moody really was mad after all, that the Ministry was going to throw my statement onto the dungheap."

"We're sorry. We've just had a lot of reported sightings that we have to follow up on. We're working through them as quickly as we can," Briony responded.

"Are you?" Mrs. Crane looked Briony over and then turned her attention to Harry. "I'm glad that you were sent here, Mr. Potter. At least it shows they are taking my information seriously for the first time."

Harry allowed her to nod before he plunged into the reason why they had come.

"Mrs. Crane, you said you thought you saw Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange on your street last night."

"I sure did. Right down the walkway at the end there." She pointed a gnarled finger in the direction Harry and Briony had come from.

"What makes you so sure it was them?"

"What makes me so sure?" the old witch asked incredulously. "I may be old, sonny. My spell work and my eyesight may not be what they used to, but I would know that Malfoy hair anywhere. When to Hogwarts with Lucius's grandfather, I did. Arrogant as a hippogriff he was. Grandson's the same, no doubt."

"Wait," Briony said, exchanging a puzzled look with Harry. "You saw him? He was unmasked?"

"Pale pointed face was as naked as an unpotted mandrake."

Hera Crane's words normally would have been amusing but both Harry and Briony were troubled. This was not the first time in recent weeks that there had been confirmed sightings of the two Death Eaters, but they had always worn their masks. The only reason they had been identified before was because experts in spell casting had identified their style of spell work. Even they had to go careful, but now they were walking around unmasked? Either they thought they were invulnerable or they wanted people to know they were out and about. Then again, the two could both be true.

"How did you come to see them?" Harry asked. The location of the walkway and this house weren't in good proximity to give a ready view.

"I was letting my owl out. It was raining last night. I wasn't going to leave the window open. Its easier to see the walkway from upstairs."

Harry cast a fleeting glance into the hall at the narrow staircase. They'd have to go upstairs eventually, something he wasn't looking forward to. He was going put that off as long as he could.

"What did they do?" Briony asked, a slight cringe in her question. Harry understood. Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy were rarely somewhere for an innocent reason. Learning about their activities was sometimes a stomach turning experience.

"Not much. They had a child with them - A misbehaving child. It was kicking up quite the fight."

"Wait." This time it was Harry who interrupted. "A child, you're sure?"

"Saw it clear as day. Tiny form, about the size of my great grandson. He's eight. Here, I'll show you."

"That won't be necessary, thank you." The last thing they needed to was to be waylaid by pictures of her family. "Any idea why the would have a child with them?"

He was asking Briony. She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip uncomfortably, thinking hard.

"Maybe they were extorting someone," Mrs. Crane supplied. "It wasn't long before a fourth figure appeared. This one was larger than the child, but shorter than Malfoy. I couldn't see much. This one stayed out of the light and was dressed in dark clothes." She leaned back in her chair, sipping tea. Harry could see the self-satisfied smile on the woman's face.

"What happened when this fourth figure arrived?"

"Now _that_ is a very interesting question." There was a sparkle in Hera Crane's eye as she rubbed her hands together. "I think they were using that child as bait for something. Like I already said, I couldn't see that larger figure, but he – and I say he because it looked more like a man than a woman – seemed to be pleading with them for the child. Once or twice when he stepped into the streetlamp's light he was gesturing wildly and pointing at the child."

This was bad news. If what he was hearing were true, Malfoy and Lestrange had kidnapped a child. Why they would do that was another matter.

"Did – do you know what happened to the child?" Briony asked in a shaky voice.

"They shot a couple of spells at each other, those two Death Eaters and the fourth man. If it was a duel it was very short-lived. Just a few minutes after they arrived, they disappeared with the child."

"Damn," Harry said before he could stop himself.

"Now, really," Mrs. Crane said. "That's not going to find that poor child."

"No," Harry said apologetically, but he quickly asked, "the child. Was it still struggling when they Disapparated?"

"Yes."

The elder woman had lost her enthusiasm for the tale as soon as Harry swore. In the blink of an eye she had turned back into the cantankerous woman who opened the door. She was most unwilling to allow them upstairs, finally relenting when Harry told her they'd have to come back later with a team.

The upstairs was just as cluttered and even more stifling than the first floor. It was just a quick visit to confirm that the upstairs window would allow her to see what she said she had. Once he stared down from the same window there was no doubt.

"You satisfied now?" she asked when Harry turned away.

"Yes. Thank you."

To the relief of Harry, Briony and their host, they were soon in the fresh air again. Harry breathed deeply. Even though the humidity was still high, it was better than being stuck inside that house.

"What now?" Briony asked, trying to stifle a yawn. "Is it report time?"

Harry, who had been staring towards the walkway, trying to visualize what the street would look like in the dark, turned back to her.

"Only you would be excited about writing a report. I think you need to spend some time with Hermione. The two of you have more in common than I thought."

Briony blushed.

"No. I don't want to go back just yet," he said, walking back the way they had come, looking up at the streetlamp. "I have a feeling that their meting here was significant. But . . . why?"

Briony followed him, not saying a word. When he looked back at her, Harry saw she had her head down and was yawning again.

"Late night?"

"Hmmm . . . No, well, I've been having trouble sleeping in all this heat. I've been trying to conjure fans, but they keep disappearing," she said.

"Maybe its time to invest in air conditioning."

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

They walked around for another fifteen minutes, finding nothing that indicated Bellatrix and Lucius had been there. Harry hadn't expected that they would, but was still disappointed. He had a feeling there was a logical reason two Death Eaters were meeting here but it eluded him. As he was ready to return and start on the dreaded report, Briony spoke up with a theory.

"Something has been bothering me," she said, leaning against one of the houses. "This child. None of the reports we've read or received mention anything connecting them to a child at all. Are we sure that this woman saw what she thought she did?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, leaning against the other house and mopping his forehead. The air was getting muggier.

Briony shrugged. "I know she said it was small. Could they maybe have had a house-elf? Or maybe it was a really short person. Think of people like Professor Flitwick at Hogwarts. He wasn't that tall. I'm not a giant myself, come to think of it. And the dark plays tricks with the eyes. She said she doesn't have the best sight."

It had been bad enough to think that they had a child in their grasp. Briony's thoughts, extremely well reasoned, increased the possible victims they were now searching for. Things were getting more and more complicated without any answers.

"You _do_ sound like Hermione," Harry said eventually. "You win. Let's get back and file this report."

Harry was glad magical maintenance wasn't aiming for a pay raise. Through their magical windows blew a fresh breeze. He mopped his brow again as he flopped down in his chair. He could not believe they had been gone for four hours. Apparently time in Hera Crane's house worked differently than it did anywhere else. "We've got to do this fast. Ginny's game starts in a few hours and I've still got to get home for Dudley."

"Well, Briony said, yawning widely this time. "I'll write. Others need to be able to read this, and your writing's illegible at the best of times. Once we're done I can go home and sleep too."

"Yeah," Harry said, still distracted by the location. It seemed random for two Death Eaters to appear in the middle of a Muggle town in the dead of night. Chatham wasn't known as a meeting place for witches and wizards. It was close to Little Whinging, which was about the only significant thing that Harry knew about Chatham, hardly an explanation as to their presence.

They worked right through the afternoon, writing every detail they could recall of the story they had received from Hera Crane, along with supporting details. When Briony dotted her last sentence it was almost six. Ginny's Quidditch match would start in under an hour.

"See you," Harry stated, hurriedly leaving, thankful for the fact that there were others working on the case now.

He Apparated into the usually empty alley to find that it was not empty. There were two other people there.

"What the fu –" one of them started to say.

"Obliviate."

Harry repeated the spell twice in rapid succession and then hurried away. He hated having to do that, but the paperwork he'd have to complete otherwise would be endless and they would still have their memories modified.

"Dudley," he called as he entered the flat. They were running a little later than Harry would have liked. If Dudley put up a struggle about Apparating that was going to waste even more time . . . Even if he didn't they were going to need to find a new Apparition point.

Dudley didn't respond. Feeling his impatience grow, Harry searched the flat and found Dudley nowhere. He swore and checked his watch. Thirty minutes until game time. Where was Dudley?

Thinking that he had, perhaps, stepped out to the grocer's, Harry decided to give his cousin fifteen more minutes. It would give him time for a quick shower in any case. If Dudley weren't back by then he'd just have to miss the game.

Ten minutes later Dudley still wasn't back. Harry had lost patience with waiting. He had told Dudley when the game started and that they weren't going to be late. Since he couldn't be there on time, Dudley was just going to have to miss the game. He would leave a note explaining this.

Harry's attention was turned away from his desk by a warm breeze. Someone had left the window open. How many times did he have to tell them to close the window before they left? As he made his way over to close it, he stepped on something that turned out to be a piece of parchment.

"What's this doing here?" he asked himself. A doleful hoot from the direction of his desk made Harry turn around.

Hedwig was sitting on his desk amid a mess of papers. Everything had been scattered across the top of his desk and there was parchment littering the floor. It was only as he looked at the mess that Harry marveled at how he could have missed it the first few times he'd been through the room.

"I didn't think it was that windy out," he said to Hedwig as he gathered up the papers that had fallen on the floor and threw them pell mell onto the desk. He'd sort them out later. "Have you been taking a feather out of Pigwidgeon's book?"

Harry stretched out a finger to stroke Hedwig but with an annoyed screech she nipped his finger so hard she drew blood.

"Ouch," he replied angrily, sucking on his finger. "There's no need to get angry. I'll see you later."

Without a backwards glance, Harry turned and left his flat. He'd just have to explain to Dudley later. He took a chance and Disapparated just outside the door after making sure the corridor was empty. Normally he didn't like to do that, in case one of his neighbors was peeking out theor door.

The sound of thirty thousand people screaming themselves hoarse told Harry he was in the right place. The crowds had thinned dramatically due to the game starting in less than ten minutes. Harry was able to navigate to his seat easily – the best part about being so late.

"There you are. We thought you were going to be late," Hermione said as Harry took his usual seat beside her. "I thought you were bringing Dudley."

"I would have done if he'd been home when I got there." Harry greeted Ron, Arthur, Molly and the rest of the family before he turned to look at the large scoreboard, currently displaying each of the seven members of the Harpies and their Quidditch records. When Ginny's face came up there was a loud round of cheers and the crowd started chanting, "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley."

Ron was smiling broadly.

"What happened to your finger?" Hermione asked, looking at the bleeding that had not stopped. She took her wand out and pointed it at his finger, sealing the woundd.

"Harry?" Molly leaned across Ron and Hermione to get his attention. When he turned to look at her he was met with a concerned expression. He was about to tell her it was nothing, but quickly learned there was something else she wanted to talk about. "Was Ginny looking peaky to you this morning?"

"Yes, she was. Why?"

Molly turned to exchange a look with Arthur.

"Why?" Harry repeated.

"We were there to see her earlier," Hermione said so Molly didn't have to shout above the noise of the crowd, "and she looked like she was going to faint. She said she didn't get much sleep last night and that was why. Is that true?"

"That's what she told me this morning when I asked her," Harry replied, ignoring the stern note in Hermione's tone. "I take it you don't buy her story. What? D'you think she's come down with a bug?"

Ginny had never been one to let things get to her. She got nervous, sure, but that usually translated into a display of overconfidence, not illness. He hoped, for Ginny's sake that she wasn't coming down with something. She would be impossible to console – and would blame herself for the Harpies performance without her.

Hermione and Molly were conversing as quietly as they could. Harry tried to listen at first, but only stray words carried to him and he soon lost the thread of their conversation.

The crowd was letting off their excitement by getting louder and louder as the start of the match ticked nearer. Harry borrowed Ron's set of omnioculars and scanned the crowd. He saw a lot of green clad supporters. Puddlemere's navy supporters were sparse among the spectators. It was another example of the home court advantage.

Puddlemere United's seven players took to the pitch amid loud cheers from their supporters, and even louder boos from the Harpies fans. The reverse was true when the green-clad Harpies took to the pitch, however it was short-lived. The scoreboard flashed a picture of each of the fourteen players before it cleared and started recording the scores for the game. When Ginny's turn came there was more than one gasp or anguished cry. Her face was completely drained of colour. It almost looked like she had taken too much of a sleeping potion and was fighting its effects.

"Oh my. She looks worse," Hermione gasped. "She's not going to play like that, is she?"

"'Course she is. She can't back out now, she's their best scorer," Ron said. Though he started out sounding confident, his voice weakened a little by the time he finished talking.

"I hope she'll be all right," Molly said, seeming like she was torn between covering her eyes and running down to drag her daughter off the pitch. For one of the few times in his life, Harry agreed with her. He didn't love Quidditch enough to have Ginny go out and risk her life for a game.

"If anyone could play in that state, it would be Ginny. I wouldn't be surprised if she kicks Wood's ass just to prove a point," Fred said from the row behind.

It soon became clear that Fred's prediction was wrong. Ginny's performance was absolutely horrendous and that was putting it nicely. She fumbled easy passes and gave up the Quaffle to members of the opposing team even more frequently. She barely missed the Bludgers a half-dozen times. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought it looked like the Puddlemere Beaters had taken pity and stopped directing the Bludgers at her. Ginny did manage three goals so she wasn't a total drain on her team, but they were easy points. Harry, who wasn't that great a Chaser, could have made those goals, he was sure.

He completely lost interest in the game, intent upon watching Ginny as he was. He worried that she was going to fall off her broom. By the end of the match her face had changed from ghostly white to sickly green.

"I'm going down there to find out what's going on," Harry said. As he stood up, he saw Keddle shooting toward the snitch, neck and neck with her Puddlemere counterpart. He was already halfway down the stairs that would lead him to the changing rooms. The loud cheer made it sound like Keddle had caught the snitch. He was glad, even though that meant the Harpies had still lost by forty points.

Harry was able to walk quickly down the corridor and reach the edge of the pitch. It was only as he stepped out and saw the Harpies just landing that it dawned on him now quickly he was able to get here. There hadn't been the usual security wizards that would stop and check everyone for concealment or disguise. Harry looked back the way he had come, disturbed by the completely empty corridor. Something was very wrong here. He would get answers, but first he wanted to make sure Ginny was OK.

The rest of her teammates, looking sullen, dejected and even angry, marched past Harry without saying a word. He didn't pay them much attention as he watched Ginny slowly make her way across the pitch, supported heavily by Jordana and Colin. He started to cover the distance between them but hadn't taken more than a few steps when Ginny, who had been barely conscious at all, finally succumbed, and slumped into Colin.

"Get a mediwizard," Jordana called loudly to Harry over the gasps and cries of the crowd. Harry turned to do so, but both of the team's mediwizards had already run past him, Harry following.

"I'm fine," Ginny said as loudly as she could as Harry approached. "I don't need medical attention. I need sleep."

"Get out of the way," the first mediwizards cried, grabbing Colin's arm as if to pull him back.

In that split second Harry knew without a doubt something was wrong. The mediwizard who had grabbed Colin to get him out of the way didn't let go. As Harry watched this, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the other pull out her wand and raised it to the sky.

"MORSMORDRE!"

One only needed to hear that incantation once in their life to know what it did. As though in slow motion Harry raised his own wand and shot two stunners.

He was too late.

As the spells were about to collide with their intended targets they Disapparated with Colin. One stunner hit Jordana and she toppled over backwards. The other sailed on until it hit a wall, which absorbed it.

Harry stood frozen in place for a moment, taking in the two forms now on the ground. They were bathed in a green glow cast by the Dark Mark now hovering over the pitch.

A dead silence fell over the stadium; Harry assumed everyone was studying the new addition to the night sky. He was looking at it, too. This, combined with the smirks he was sure he saw in the second before the two mediwizards disappeared with Colin in tow made him sure he had just been face to face with Bellatrix and Lucius, polyjuiced to look like the team's mediwizards. Colin Creevey was Muggle-born. This abduction would certainly fit their pattern.

A shrill scream broke the dead silence and was closely followed by others, filling the stadium with the sound of people's panic.


	14. The Cursed Tattoo

Harry could see most of the crowd rushing to leave. He thought he also saw people emerging onto the pitch, but his immediate concern was for Ginny. She had been the closest to the action and might have information but extremely unwell, and probably hadn't seen much She was also completely alone at the moment, something he was not comfortable with.

"Are you OK?" Harry asked her, kneeling on the pitch. Ginny was trying to prop herself up on her elbows. "Maybe you should just lie still."

Ginny fixed him with her most annoyed expression and continued doing as she was. Harry started to help guide her up.

"Potter?"

Dawlish was approaching them. Reluctantly, Harry turned to see Aurors spilling onto the pitch: in addition to Dawlish were Moody, Kingsley and Tougas, who was followed closely by Briony. As he took an inventory of who was approaching Harry realized something: Hermione had been left completely unguarded.

"I'll be right back," he told Ginny before standing up and rushing to where Dawlish was, feeling angry at the senior Auror's lack of forethought. "What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you still with Hermione?"

Before he finished his question Harry knew he was pushing it. Dawlish was the senior Auror and shouldn't be questioned on his activities by someone seven months out of training. Harry was sure he'd get flack for what he had just done but he could care less. It was irresponsible, not to mention unwise and foolish, to leave Hermione unguarded and he was ready to argue this point.

To Harry's great surprise Dawlish stopped where he was. His shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, looking ashamed.

"You're absolutely right, Potter. I have neglected my duties," he said in a gruff voice that betrayed his disappointment. With a twist and a barely discernible pop Dawlish was gone.

"Sorry," Harry said, putting a steadying hand on Ginny's back when she looked like she was going to fall backwards. "Gin, I think you should have someone take a look at you."

"I'm fine. I don't need someone fussing over me. I just want to –" She stopped talking in her raspy voice and stared up at Harry, her eyes wide as saucers. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but said nothing.

"What?" Harry asked, leaning in closer, thinking she had become too weak to speak. Ginny didn't try to talk again. She brought her hand up and touched his scar. When she lowered it to where he could see, he saw it was spotted with blood. Harry backed away a little so he was balancing on the balls of his feet and touched his own hand to his scar with the same result.

Damn.

His first thought was of how to keep this from Moody. The last time his scar had mysteriously bled Moody had all but removed Harry from the case. After everything he'd been involved in this was the very last thing he wanted.

Several of Ginny's teammates had migrated back onto the pitch and were looking around cautiously. They'd all been in the changing rooms when everything occurred, but they had to have known something was wrong. It was Gwenog Jones who first spotted Jordana and came running over.

"What happened?" she asked quickly, looking over at Harry who was helping Ginny slowly to her feet. He looked over to see what Gwenog was talking about.

"She was hit with a stunner that missed its target," Harry said, feeling a slight pang of guilt for forgetting about Jordana until now. She might need medical attention.

Another question occurred to Harry as he watched Gwenog help Jordana up: what happened to the real mediwizards. His answer came almost at once. They had also been stunned but showed no effects of it. They came running out of the changing rooms with Keddle and King. Ikey, the mediwitch with the crazy hair made a beeline for Ginny, who groaned and leaned against Harry.

"Don't let her touch me."

"Gin, you need to –"

"No!" she said, forcefully and, with some effort, pulled herself to her feet. Against his better inclination Harry followed her wishes and shielded her from Ikey.

"You need to go and lie down at least," he amended. Harry expected Ginny to argue but she didn't, instead using the support of Keddle and King to help her leave the pitch. They seemed to have forgotten their anger with her in light of post-match events. Harry accompanied her as far as the group of Aurors, told her he would see her in a bit, and then made his way over to where Moody, Kingsley, Tougas and Briony were standing.

"What the hell happened here?" Moody asked the minute Harry joined them. "You were closest to the action Potter, explain."

Harry did. He recounted why he had come down in the first place, his unease at the missing security, the imposter mediwizards, his suspicions about their true identities, and finally, about Colin's abduction.

"Brilliant," Kingsley said darkly. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then started speaking, at first as though he was thinking out loud. "Right under our noses and in front of all these people . . . I think you're right, Potter. Malfoy and Lestrange are crazy enough to do something like this."

Kingsley turned back to look at the spectators. Half of the crowd was jammed into the first few rows of seats, waiting for something else to happen. The other half couldn't leave the Quidditch stadium fast enough. There were major and minor skirmishes at the exits, resulting in more than one injury.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked Briony during a lull, while Moody and Kingsley stared up at the Dark Mark with frowns on their faces. "I thought you were going home to get some sleep."

Briony chanced a glance at Tougas, looking nervous. "Bredan asked me to come, and after this morning . . . I felt I owed it to him."

He wasn't going to get into this conversation right now, given everything else that was going on, but Harry could not understand why Briony even talked to Tougas. This latest lack of consideration was one of the many examples showcasing their differences. He took a moment to look from one to the other, trying to spot the common ground that sustained their friendship. Tougas caught him at it and sneered before speaking.

"I have a question." Moody, Kingsley, Briony and Harry turned to look at Tougas. "Does anyone else find it suspicious that Potter is once again the first witness to the appearance of dark magic?"

This question prompted several varied reactions. Moody scowled, Briony fidgeted, Harry checked his watch impatiently, and Kingsley watched them all shrewdly.

"Damn it, Tougas. We don't have time for this tonight," Moody said angrily. He continued in a warning tone. "We've got a lot to do and I don't want you two at each other's throats."

Tougas was adamant about his position. "I don't mean to take up valuable time here, sir, but don't you think that ignoring this information is damaging to our case?"

"What are you getting at, Tougas? Why do you think that Potter is linked to this case?" Kingsley asked. He folded his arms and waited for Tougas to expound on his theory, his eyes moving between Harry and his supervisor.

Briony looked away uncomfortably. Harry could understand her position. She'd been spending a lot of time with him, Tougas's sworn enemy. Tensions had to be running high between the two of them.

Tougas spared a quick glance at Harry before he launched into his list of horrible wrongs committed by the newest Auror. He wasn't smirking arrogantly as had been the case of late. Perhaps he thought it unbefitting to react so when addressing such a high-ranking Ministry official.

"I don't say these things because of any great dislike for Potter," he started, looking sideways at Briony. "Although I do think he tends to take unnecessary risks. I'm sure you remember the Yaxley situation."

"I do," Kingsley said shortly, a slight frown on his face. It was clear he was not interested in revisiting that case. If he'd been hoping to score points with Kingsley by bringing up Harry's capture, Tougas was wrong. He seemed to be the only one fixated on that case.

"Right. It has been ignored by almost everyone in our department but I can't escape noticing that Potter seems to be around, but out of observation of any of his colleagues whenever dark magic is occurring. It also seems odd to me, Minister that until he joined our task force only two Muggle-borns had gone missing in four years. Two more have disappeared in the last three months and, the thing I think you'll agree is most curious, sir, is that their relationship to Potter seems to be getting stronger."

Kingsley looked from Tougas to Harry. He was still frowning but his actual thoughts on Tougas's theory were veiled. Harry was less torn about the theory, but that did not mean he wasn't troubled. It was quite true that the last two disappearances could be more directly linked to him. While this was true of a great many things, he had to grudgingly concede the point that Colin, by way of his friendship with Ginny, was a hell of a lot closer to Harry than Justin Finch-Fletchley.

Disturbed by the thought that they might never find Colin, Harry looked up at the Dark Mark still hovering in the sky. He hoped they would not run into the same brick wall in their search for Colin as they had with Justin's disappearance.

"Now we know your suspicions, what do you think Potter's involvement is, then?" Kingsley asked, sounding like he was following up on a lead. Harry couldn't help but stare at him. The Minister could not be taking Tougas seriously.

"I – I don't really know yet," Tougas admitted reluctantly. "I haven't been afforded the opportunity to look into this matter."

"You're damn right you haven't," Moody said gruffly. He likely would have said more if Kingsley didn't start talking again.

"I appreciate your thoroughness, Tougas, but I assume you want to pursue a line of inquiry in which Potter has a hand in the execution of these crimes. I cannot allow that at the present time. Potter has given us more than enough reason to trust him in these matters, and I will not have the Auror department thrown into a tailspin because of the far-fetched ideas of one Auror."

Though it was a favorite pastime of Harry's to see Tougas getting called out for his ridiculous fixations, he was still too disturbed by the idea that he agreed with his supervisor on anything. If this theory did indeed turn out to be true then he was right to worry about Hermione. This thought left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. It had been ridiculously easy for Malfoy and Lestrange to abduct Colin.

"What are you thinking, Potter?" Kingsley asked. "And what did you do you do to yourself?"

"Nothing." Harry clapped his hand over his scar. It didn't hurt at all, but he could feel the warm, sticky blood trickling from it. He would worry about the still unexplained bleeding later. "I was just worried that – that Tougas might be right and that Hermione might be in more danger."

Harry refused to turn his attention to Tougas. He kept it focused on Moody and Kingsley instead. His statement had made them exchange thoughtful glances. He was sure he had given them something else to worry about as well.

"You may have a point, Potter," Moody said. "Give us a minute to talk."

The two men walked away several paces. Kingsley raised his wand, and a second later the pitch was once again its normal colour, the Dark Mark now gone. Harry turned to talk to Briony, but she and Tougas were also a few paces away.

Not knowing how long Kingsley and Moody were going to talk, or how long they'd be here tonight, Harry wanted to use his time to find out how Ginny was doing. He started to do that but hesitated when some of Briony and Tougas's conversation reached him.

" . . . Don't understand why you insisted on coming if you were so tired." Tougas.

Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, Briony cast a glance at him. He began to walk again, but a little slower, wanting to hear her answer. Hadn't she said Tougas asked her to come?

"I just thought . . . after this morning that it would be a good idea if I came. I just wanted you to know I wasn't mad at you for what you said." Briony spoke with a particular emphasis, as though she wanted to make sure there was no mistake in what she said. This precise speech was a little too self-assured for the usually timid Briony and made Harry uneasy for the second time that night. He kept walking, determined to check on Ginny.

He wasn't destined to check on Ginny at that time. Seconds before Harry entered the corridor that led to the changing rooms, the door burst open and Tovah Ikey appeared. She was running and very nearly smashed into Harry. He saw she was agitated, and was clutching a wide phial of a think, glutinous potion in her hand.

"Look at what I found," she said, shoving the phial at Harry before she had come to a full stop. "Polyjuice potion."

"Really?" Harry took the phial and looked at it. There was no mistaking the substance. He now held in his hands certain proof that he was at least partly right about what had happened. It could be another clue that it was Lestrange and Malfoy under those disguises. Who else would have been as brazen to leave their method of disguise behind? Yes, they might have forgot it, or dropped it, but he didn't think so. They had been too careful for that.

"What's going on?"

Within seconds, Moody, Kingsley, Briony and Tougas were congregated feet from the corridor Harry had walked down not an hour before, and were examining the phial while Harry gave the quick explanation as to how he had acquired it.

"See," Tougas said when Harry finished. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Why do all the leads just fall into his lap? I'm telling you, he's a magnet for dark magic."

"As seems to be the pattern of his life." Kingsley said, not smiling.

Tougas scowled. So did Moody. Harry couldn't say he was impressed either. He was struggling to think of another logical reason for what was happening. He wanted to continue believing that everything that seemed to be connected to him was coincidence, but Kingsley's statement was too true for him to deny it.

"So what are we going to do now?" Tougas asked. "Do either of you have any ideas about what happened here today?"

Moody and Kingsley said nothing, again exchanging more looks. They seemed to be thinking something that escaped Harry and Tougas. After a second Kingsley must have come to realize that they didn't know what he and Moody were thinking because he began to enlighten them.

"We're going to take part of your assumption as true, Tougas." He turned to Harry. "If he is right then so are you. Miss. Granger is in danger. I've asked Moody to take over her guard for now. Dawlish will take over the lead of the task force."

Harry was grateful. He knew Dawlish to be a capable Auror, but he seemed to be slipping lately. In contrast, Moody was as vigilant as ever. Hermione was going to hate it but at least she would be safe.

Now that Hermione's safety was nearly guaranteed, Kingsley's first point was the one troubling Harry more. If they really thought he was involved in all that was going on, he was surely going to be removed from the task force, if not the entire department, indefinitely. The thought was increasing his annoyance and frustration. He had thought he was really part of the team; that people trusted that he wasn't going around casting, or aiding in the casting, of dark magic. Kingsley was one of the last people he thought would suspect him of such a ludicrous thing, especially since it had been he who asked Harry to join the Auror office in the first place.

Tougas was going to love this, Harry thought bitterly. He had finally got his way. Harry started to walk away. He had been attempting to find out how Ginny was doing; now it appeared he had all the time in the world.

"Where are you going, Potter?" Kingsley called. "I didn't think we were quite done here."

Harry turned around, resisting the urge to look surly with all his effort. Why Kingsley wanted him to remain when they were seemingly going to start investigating him was odd.

Kingsley waited for Harry to return to the group before he continued as though nothing had happened. His words surprised Harry.

"While I agree that there is some connection between this case and Potter, I do not think he is aiding, or perpetrating these crimes, as I said earlier. But it seems that someone is trying to set him up, whether to try and bring him down or to force him to do something we don't yet know. The very fact that he is being targeted gives Potter more reason to solve this case than anyone else, therefore I think it's a good idea, and Moody concurs, to keep him on the case."

Harry tried to thank the Minister for this decision, and his words, but Kingsley was already moving on.

"Let us hope you have better luck with this investigation than you've been having with the others." Kingsley was watching the crowd as he talked. "I've got to go make an announcement."

Harry, Moody, Tougas and Briony watched Kingsley as he approached the stands. As he started speaking, Moody turned to Harry.

"Go get your bleeding dealt with. It's going to be a long night and I don't want you passing out, or more people than necessary to know what's happening to you."

"All right," Harry said. He might have otherwise been annoyed at the way Moody phrased his demand, but this was a ready-made excuse to check on Ginny. Moody stumped off in the other direction to relieve Dawlish. Before he was out of earshot, Moody turned back, clearly anticipating what Harry was going to do.

"Do what you need to do, Potter, but don't be gone too long. We need to question everyone who was here - before they forget if they saw anything."

Harry hastened his stride, not wanting to give Moody any time to change his mind. When he knocked on the changing room door Ikey was the one who answered.

"How is she?" he asked immediately. "Has she finally let you examine her?"

"Yes." Ikey let Harry in and then closed the door.

"Its not serious, is it?" Harry stopped, feeling his apprehension start to grow again.

"No. She'll be fine." Harry thought there was a delighted twinkle in her eye but couldn't be sure. Tovah Ikey was a woman with a slightly bizarre sense of humor.

"Ah, good. Was it just a touch of the flu, or . . . ?"

"I'm sorry, but diagnoses are confidential. You'll have to ask Miss. Weasley, Mr. Potter."

Harry had not really expected that Ikey would answer him; nevertheless he wasn't impressed with this reaction.

"I'll do that, thanks," he said, now itching to be rid of the mediwitch.

Ginny was sitting on the edge of the bed, arguing with Jordana and Gwenog about leaving.

"Ikey said you should be lying down for at least another hour." Gwenog was pleading. "We don't want you getting permanently injured."

"I'll lie down when I get home, I swear." Ginny clearly wanted to get out of there as much has Harry did. He was more than willing to accompany her and said as much.

"And I'll make sure she rests."

With some reluctance, Jordana and Gwenog agreed to let Ginny leave. They walked away, shaking their heads. Ginny didn't get up right away as Harry expected she would, so he sat down beside her and tried to catch her eye, but she was avoiding him, examining her fingers intently.

"So," he said, "Ikey said you're going to be fine . . . feel like telling me what was wrong in the first place?" She still didn't look up, but Harry thought Ginny was fighting with herself to raise her eyes. Finally she shook her head.

"Nothing's wrong. I've just been working too hard lately and succumbed to exhaustion. Now we're out of the running that's not going to be a problem."

"No, I guess its not." Harry put his arm around her and they sat quietly.

The door burst open a moment later and a group of people poured in, Molly Weasley in the lead.

"Oh, Ginny, we've been so worried," she cried, flinging her arms around her daughter. "I knew something like this was going to happen. I just knew it."

"Mum, I'm fine," Ginny said trying to push Molly away as she made to give her a hug, but she might as well not have bothered. Molly won and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You weren't hurt by those two mediwizards, were you? Did they do something to you? Is that why you were peaky today?" Molly looked around the room, an angry expression on her face. Harry thought she was looking for one of the mediwizards to give them one of her world class reamings. Luckily for them, neither was within Molly's grasp.

"No, mum. Like I was just telling Harry –"

Molly was fussing over Ginny and not listening to her at all. This never sat well with Ginny, but today she was even less tolerant of it. As Molly started to straighten her hair Ginny shrugged out of her grasp, regained a standing position, and said, "Mum you're not listening. I said I'm fine, just a little tired is all. I don't need you fussing over me," before she walked out of the room a little unsteadily.

"I think she's just upset about the match, and about Colin," Harry stated apologetically before he followed Ginny. She still looked quite unwell and he didn't want her doing anything foolish.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm not staying in there with her when she's like that." Ginny was using the wall as a support.

"Here." Harry stretched out his arm. Again she hesitated as though she might not take it, but after a few awkward seconds she did.

"She's just trying to make sure you're OK, you know," Harry stated as they headed back out to the pitch.

"But she doesn't listen. That's the problem," Ginny replied. When they reached the edge of the pitch she stopped and looked at Kingsley who was still talking to the crowd. The stadium was much louder than Harry remembered it a few minutes ago. The remaining spectators were muttering amongst themselves, or shouting out questions and worries, prompting Kingsley to stop talking and start addressing questions, very few of which he was answering.

"I see your scar's stopped bleeding again. How'd you manage that?" Ginny asked. Harry looked away from the pitch and at her instead, his hand automatically going to his scar. She was quite right. It had returned to its normal state.

"I dunno. I didn't do anything," he said, only now beginning to wonder why it had started bleeding in the first place. For years his scar had been nothing more than a memento from Voldemort's first failed attempt to kill him. Then, mysteriously, it had bled the night the Dark Mark appeared in the Ministry, and again when it appeared here. Why?

Harry looked up into the darkening sky, now devoid of any magical blemish, thinking. He needed answers. There were only two people who had been able to consistently give him answers. He'd long ago conceded that the portrait Dumbledore had ceased to be of help to him. That left Hermione.

A tug on his arm made Harry look at Ginny. She was starting to walk again.

"Where are you going?" he questioned.

"To give my statement. I have to do that, don't I?"

"Yeah, but . . . Gin, are you sure you want to do this now? I mean after everything –"

"I want to get this over with so I can leave," she interrupted.

They met Kingsley halfway to where Tougas and Briony were standing.

"Miss. Weasley." Kingsley gave her a slight nod of his head. Usually Ginny had some witty comment ready for when Kingsley addressed her thus. Today, however, she went with a more conventional and somber, "hi, Kingsley." This change in her usual manner did not go unnoticed by the Minister.

"She wanted to give her statement before she leaves," Harry explained. He answered Kingsley's puzzled expression with a "don't ask" look of his own.

"Right."

Harry, Ginny and Kingsley walked the rest of the way to where Tougas was standing with Briony. They had both been watching the approach with unreadable expressions. As they neared, Harry wished they could have just given the statement to Kingsley, but he understood why they weren't. This was a highly important case and Kingsley wanted an impartial person to hear the statement. Whether Tougas could be impartial was another matter entirely.

"What's she doing here?" she hissed as they drew ever nearer. It was this comment that refreshed Harry's recollection of Ginny's suspicions, the ones he still didn't agree with.

"She's been working on the case, too. We were following up on some reports this afternoon, in fact." After the argument they'd had the last time Harry hadn't told Ginny about Briony, he knew full disclosure was the best way to go, even though her grip on his arm was starting to become painful.

"It's a mistake," she said in a warning voice.

"Not now, OK?"

Ginny complied and said nothing more, but her tension was palpable. When the five people met in the centre of the pitch none of the good humor of a wining Quidditch game could ease the tension.

"Miss. Weasley has kindly come to give her statement despite her ill-health," Kingsley said. Ginny opened her mouth to protest but Kingsley was talking again. "I suggest we record what she has to say quickly and let her get on her way."

These words, Harry felt, were meant particularly for Tougas's benefit. He appreciated them all the more because it would make this questioning rapid. Ginny, who had regained some of her normal colour before coming out, was starting to look green again. She needed the rest she was denying herself.

Tougas conjured a quill and some parchment and set them in the air before him.

"Whenever you're ready," he said flatly.

Ginny spoke for a few minutes. She hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Harry hadn't expected she would have, even if something odd had been going on, which he also doubted.

"Both mediwizards were fine when I saw them last so they must have been knocked out and polyjuiced after we came out here," she said, leaning even more heavily on Harry. He was watching her carefully. If they didn't get out of here soon she just might collapse again.

"Did you tell her to say that, Potter?" Tougas asked angrily.

Harry snapped his head in Tougas's direction, prepared to give an angry retort. He wasn't in the habit of coaching witnesses, even if he happened to have an existing relationship with them.

"What did I just say?" Kingsley asked impatiently.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he was in there with her for minutes on end. Who knows what he could have told her to say. We already know he's not good at respecting his superiors. Look at how he reacted with Dawlish earlier."

"Not the time, Tougas," Kingsley said an even stronger warning in his voice. "Please continue, Ginevra."

"Ginny," she corrected quickly. "And, no, he didn't tell me to say that. I thought even you could get over your preoccupation with Harry to remember that Ikey came out here not twenty minutes ago with the phial of Polyjuice potion."

Tougas looked taken aback for a minute but quickly recovered himself.

"You've taught her well, Potter. I underestimated her, I admit. I thought she was too preoccupied with feigning the loss of a game and doing nothing as two Death Eaters kidnapped her friend."

Tougas had ignored the warning look that he was getting from both Kingsley and Harry. Before he finished Harry had his wand out and was pointing it at his moronic supervisor. His ridiculous theories about Harry being connected to their suspects were one thing (they had a slight, if unpleasant, plausibility), but he was not going to stand for Ginny being dragged into this feud.

"Too far," Kingsley said in the closest thing to an angry voice as Harry had ever heard. He pulled both Harry and Ginny away from the other Auror. "I'm sorry about him. He and I are going to have a chat. Thank you for staying Ginny. You can leave almost at once, but one last question, did you notice anything else worth mention?"

Ginny shook her head, glancing angrily at Tougas.

Kingsley excused himself and returned to Tougas and Briony. IN the few seconds they stayed, Harry distinctively heard the words "unprofessional" and "Irresponsible."

"Are you OK to Apparate?" Harry asked as he looked at how dangerously pale Ginny was.

"Yes. I think I want to go to the Burrow. Is that OK?" she sounded somewhat reluctant to make this statement.

"Sure. Are you sure you want to go there after that row with your mum, Gin? I don't think you should get all riled up again."

"I won't," she replied quietly.

They were closer to the stands now, which were still surprisingly full. As Harry and Ginny prepared to leave they heard someone call their names from the stand and both turned toward the sound automatically. Before they knew it they were blinded by a bright flash.

"Let's go," Harry said immediately through clenched teeth. "Are you ready?"

They disappeared before the purple smoke cleared and revealed the identity of their photographer.

The house was dark when they landed in the back garden.

"I guess they're not back yet," Harry said, lighting his wand for easier navigation. It was strange to him to see the house so devoid of life.

They didn't stop in the kitchen for a cup of tea like normal, but proceeded straight up to Ginny's room. Only once did she try to protest at his accompanying her.

"I can make it up a couple of flights of stairs," she said.

"Usually with flying colours, but in your condition I don't want to chance it."

Harry lit the lamp with his wand as they entered Ginny's room. He'd only been in here a few times, usually when her brothers were far away.

"Mum was in here cleaning up again," Ginny said, shuffling over to the bed and flopping down on her back.

"Don't you think you should change first?" Harry asked, sitting down beside her.

"No," she sighed, reaching over and grabbing a plush stuffed lion Harry had never seen before. She set it on her stomach and stared at it with a sad expression. He watched her for a few minutes, wondering what she was thinking and what was so interesting about it.

"Aren't you a little old for stuffed animals?" he asked, taking it from her and examining it for intriguing characteristics.

"This isn't any old stuffed animal," she said with a little more passion. "Its Gryffin, the Gryffindor lion. Dad got it for me when I was a little girl, right around the time Percy first went to Hogwarts. He used to roar, too, but the spell wore off completely a couple of years ago."

"I didn't know they had stuffed Gryffindor lions," Harry said, suddenly a lot more interested. "Do they have stuffed mascots for all the Hogwarts houses?"

Ginny gave him one of those looks that Harry hated so much. It was an "I can't believe you don't know this" look.

"Sorry," she said, upon seeing his scowl. "Its just easy to forget you weren't raised around all the stuff we take for granted. You know, I sometimes think you don't realize how big a deal it is to go to Hogwarts. I mean, wizarding kids look forward to it for years."

Harry knew that. He had seen it in Ginny herself the year before she started at Hogwarts. But he knew there was a big difference between knowing kids got excited and the actual experience. He had been looking forward to attending Hogwarts once he learned he was a wizard, but he only had to wait a month. Years would be excruciating.

"He doesn't look very brave," Harry said finally, brandishing the lion and growling pitifully. Ginny laughed and accepted the lion back, where she once again sat it on her stomach but ignored it, instead watching Harry intently.

"What?" he asked, leaning down to hear what it was she had to say. She was hesitating. Harry tried to prompt her again. "What is it, Gin?"

She looked away, and thereafter wouldn't look at him.

"Thanks for bringing me home," she said, flatly, and finally, as though he already had his foot out the door.

"D'you want me to stay?" Half of him hoped she would say yes, not because he wanted to get out of work, but because he had a strong feeling that Ginny had something really important that she wanted to tell him. "I can owl Kingsley and –"

"No. You should really be there. They need you, and I need sleep." She smiled weakly before looking away again.

"What did Ikey say about today, why you fainted? I've seen you tired before and you've never been like that," Harry tried again. She'd never before held back information on injuries.

The longest silence yet passed between them, while Ginny was again watching him intently. Harry felt sure there was something she wanted to say. She was going to tell him what was really wrong with her, but –

"Colin said the same thing to me a couple of weeks ago," she stated quietly.

"Oh?"

They hadn't talked about Colin at all. The disappearance had to be hard on her, given her close relationship with Colin. Harry wanted to tell her not to worry, but Ginny knew they hadn't found Justin, and there was nothing to increase their chances of finding Colin either.

"We're going to do everything we can to find him," he told her.

"I know you are." She reached up and touched his cheek, a small smile played across her face.

"See, you have more important things to do than sit here and watch me sleep."

"Yeah." Harry checked his watch, knowing he should be back already, but reluctant to leave Ginny here alone. He knew he was being stupid. Bellatrix and Lucius had demonstrated that they were targeting Muggle-borns and Ginny was a pureblood; but if Tougas was right about this connection . . . Death Eaters weren't known for being the most methodical. He couldn't go through the fear of her abduction again especially knowing what he now knew about the last time. Ginny didn't need that again, and he didn't want her to go through it again.

"Harry, go. I'll see you later," Ginny said, already half asleep.

"Yeah." He gave her a quick kiss, told her to get some rest and then left. With any luck they wouldn't take too long and he could come back here. It was only nine o'clock after all.

There were far fewer spectators in the Quidditch stadium when Harry returned. He counted three dozen or so standing awkwardly around the edge of the pitch.

"Ah, Potter, you're here. The Minister wanted to see you straight away when you got back," Dawlish said, coming up to Harry as he walked to the middle of the pitch himself. He reversed directions and went to see Kingsley, who was talking with Jordana and Gwenog.

"Mind telling me what's going on with your scar, Potter?" Kingsley asked when they had walked out of earshot of everyone else.

"I'm not sure. It's the second time it's bled since Voldemort . . . and the other time was when the Dark Mark was seen on the memorial."

Kingsley was apparently been the only one who didn't know this. He did a double take when Harry explained.

"This has happened before? Who else knew of this?"

"I dunno," Harry said. "Ginny, Ron, Hermione, all of the Weasleys, I guess. This happened at the Ministry . . . so all of the task force, Briony – What?"

"Tougas is onto something, I think," Kingsley said. "You've got some part to play in this whole matter."

"I'm not working with the Death Eaters," harry stated loudly, much louder than he had intended.

"I don't think that, but you're the connection. Once we figure out exactly what the nature of that connection is we'll have them."

Though it was nice to know that someone was taking him seriously, Harry couldn't say he was impressed with how this investigation was going. Tougas might be right, but he might not be. There was no rule saying that he, Harry, had to be the lynch pin for every bit of Dark Magic in the world, no matter how things appeared.

"So what'd you want me to do then, sir?" he asked, readying again for the polite demand that he remove himself from the case, something Harry was reluctant to do now he had become a fully functioning member of the task force.

"You'll continue doing as you're doing. I meant it when I said you have more reason to see this resolved than anyone else."

"Thanks, I think," Harry said as Kingsley walked away. He didn't stand in one place for long. As soon as Dawlish saw Kingsley walk away he called Harry over, pointed out a group of people standing just away from the entrance and told Harry they still needed to be questioned.

The group turned out to be eight girls and four boys, all around Gabrielle Delacour's age. Silently cursing Dawlish for leaving this particular group of spectators to him, Harry made his way over to them, hoping they would answer his questions quickly. He didn't want to spend a lot of time with them and have nothing to show for it.

His hopes were dashed as his approach caught the attention of one of the girls who squealed and nudged her friend, who in turn elbowed one of the boys. Within seconds they were all watching him intently. Harry decided that the best way to deal with this behaviour was to dive right into his questions. He did just this as soon as he was close enough.

"Hi. Thanks for waiting."

No reaction at all.

"Did any of you see anything before or after the Dark Mark appeared?" Harry had emulated Tougas in conjuring quill and parchment. It floated in front of him. When no one said anything the quill began to tap impatiently on the parchment, mimicking his own feelings. Harry was about to separate them to see if they would be less intimidated separately when one of the boys spoke up.

"We didn't see anything odd. We were just watching the game. When it ended like it did – damn shame that was – we didn't notice anything odd until the Dark Mark appeared."

The others were nodding in agreement.

"We were too busy arguing about – " This was from a second boy, who stopped speaking abruptly. He looked away with a guilty expression on his face.

"Yes?" Harry prompted, with a gut feeling of what they had been talking about.

"Er . . . we were talking about the match," the first boy spoke again, with a significant glance at his friend.

"They were talking about how bad Ginny Weasley played. He fancies her." The girl who spoke this pointed at the second boy who spoke. The level of scorn in her voice made Harry think that perhaps that wasn't the only case of fancy amongst this group.

"Shut up." The second boy turned to the girl who had spoken and talked to her in an obvious hiss. Despite himself, Harry felt a little amused. He had been right about his suspicions. It wasn't news to him that other men found Ginny attractive. Normally he didn't find this amusing, but the reaction of the boy in question was one he had himself around Ginny's brothers. It was nice to be on the other side of that feeling.

"It's a shame the Harpies lost," said a female voice that Harry could not put a face to. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She should be fine," Harry said. "So . . . no one saw anything suspicious? No one looked out of place? Maybe they seemed nervous, or like they were looking for something? Or –" he amended, remembering who their two suspects were, " – maybe overly pushy or arrogant? Cruel?"

Harry kept firing questions at them, hoping they would have seen something, but he was met with nothing but blank stares. Finally he was forced to admit defeat.

The remainder of the task force was waiting for him when Harry returned. In the time he'd been getting no information from the group of teenagers his colleagues had finished questioning the rest of the witnesses. Seeing as how he had missed most of the investigative work when he was gone with Ginny, Harry had hoped he could at least get some useful information. Perhaps twice in the same day was asking too much.

They'd all been working hard that day and thus only gave a quick once over to the stadium before Dawlish told them to give up for the night. They were all glad to leave, not having found anything, but none more so than Harry. As they had been checking for any sign of dark magic usage, he'd decided to go talk to Hermione as soon as he was free to leave.

Knowing that Moody was there guarding Hermione Harry thought it was a good idea to announce his presence, lest he have to dodge the worst of Moody's jinxes. He sent up his patronus as he walked up their dark street in Hogsmeade.

"What are you doing here?" Moody asked, standing outside a tend that had been erected in Ron and Hermione's front yard.

"I have to talk to Hermione," Harry said, not stopping. It was nearing midnight, but hopefully they wouldn't be too mad at him for waking them up, if they were sleeping. He rang the doorbell and waited.

There was no movement in the house, and all was dark. Harry guessed they were asleep. This was important though, so he rang again, twice in a row.

A light flicked on somewhere in the house and a moment later Ron flung the door open, looking disheveled and a little flushed.

"What?" he barked.

"Er . . . bad time?" Harry asked, feeling himself turn red and looking away quickly. The fact his best made was only clad in the bottom half of his usual attire left little doubt in his mind what Ron and Hermione had been doing. He was dearly wishing he had owled first.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Ron asked, most of the hardness gone from his voice.

"Nothing's wrong really. I just wanted to talk to Hermione, but it's obviously a bad time so I'll come back later."

"Its not a bad time anymore," Ron grumbled, relieved at the news that they weren't in impending danger. He opened the door fully and let Harry in. "I'll just go get her."

"Who was that?" Hermione asked at that moment, tying the belt of a too-short robe. She stopped halfway down the stairs. "Oh. Harry?"

"Yeah. He wants to talk to you," Ron said, walking over and blocking her way down the stairs.

"Oh?" Hermione asked in a slightly shaky voice as she tried to cover more of herself. "Um . . . OK. Let me just go get –"

She might have finished the entire sentence but she turned and dashed up the stairs so quickly that whatever she might have said was lost.

"I'll be right back, too." Ron followed Hermione up the stairs, leaving Harry to take a seat on their sofa, lean back and try to think of something that wasn't embarrassing. It had been precisely scenes like this that had made him glad he and Ron didn't live together anymore. Harry had been on both sides of this scene too many times to want a repeat.

Hermione came down first and it could not have been plainer that she was overcompensating for her lack of attire on first appearance. She was now wearing baggy sweat pants and shirt that were going to be uncomfortably warm in just a few minutes.

"So . . . um . . . what was so important that you needed to come over in the middle of the night?" she asked awkwardly.

When she put it like that, Harry felt even worse for coming at all. He really hadn't thought this over at all, but now that he was here it would be stupid for him to leave without getting the information he'd come here for.

"You and Ginny talked about why my scar has started randomly bleeding, right?"

"We have," Hermione said warily. "Why the sudden urgency about it?"

"Because it happened again tonight."

"It did?" Hermione asked, all sense of uneasiness gone. When Harry nodded she stood up and started pacing, a sign she was thinking. In a much shorter time than usual she turned, with a triumphant smile on her face. "Its connected to the Dark Mark, I'm sure of it."

It wasn't a wholly novel idea; he'd already considered it himself just that evening, but that didn't make her idea any less distasteful to Harry.

"What makes you so sure? There had to be a million things that were the same in the two scenes. Maybe," Harry said, thinking aloud. "Malfoy and Lestrange were there and hit me with some sort of spell."

Hermione's smile widened. "You know I had thought of that very thing, too, at first. Even if they did manage to get off a spell without anyone seeing – which is pretty near impossible given how many people watch your every move –"

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered.

"Yes. Well, even if no one saw, Dittany would have worked."

"It doesn't work on dark magic though," Harry stated, feeling a tiny bubble of hope begin to grow. Maybe this had nothing to do with Voldemort and his scar at all. Perhaps someone just thought it would be funny . . .

"It can't repair everything, no, but an injury like yours should have been a cinch. It doesn't take a dark spell to make you bleed, you know." She looked at Harry pityingly, as though sorry she kept dashing his simple explanations.

"So what d'you think it is then?"

"You're probably not going to like this."

"I probably won't, but tell me anyway."

"OK. Bear with me, Harry. I need to give you some background or this might not make sense. And remember this is just my theory. I don't know if I'm anywhere near the truth."

"I'll take anything you've got," Harry said truthfully.

"Right. Well it all starts with the Dark Mark. I think that it's some sort of Protean Charm. Voldemort branded his followers with it so he could summon them to him. My research turned up powers we didn't know it possessed until after Voldemort was killed."

She ignored Harry's flinch, preferring instead to continue talking.

"The Dark Mark, it turns out, could track his supporters. Very few, if any, knew how to stop that. There's also a theory that it could show loyalties, but I don't know if I buy that one because he'd have known right away about Wormtail, and Draco Malfoy, and Snape . . . "

"He thought he was the world's best Legillimens," Harry said. "That wouldn't have been very important to him. What does this have to do with my scar though?"

"I'm getting there. Another theory is that the charm, and thus the mark, can also change based on the person's mood."

Harry couldn't stop from laughing out loud. His amusement wasn't even dampened by the scathing look Hermione fixed him with.

"Oh, come on Hermione. I'll agree with the tracking aspect, but these theories are bordering on Quibbler material, and we seem to be getting further away from how this relates to me."

"It all does. The Dark Mark was a dark, and more advanced, form of the protean charm, which can do all of these things. It's a highly adaptable spell. The caster can easily include certain things while excluding others. A few simple words can change my simple spell into Dark Magic. Voldemort was easily able to create a cursed tattoo for his followers.

"Now, how this relates to you, Harry, goes all the way back to the first time he tried to kill you when you were a baby."

"Everything does," Harry said dryly.

"In your case, yes." Hermione flashed him a sympathetic smile.

"Before you go on with another wild theory, Hermione, remember that I don't have a Dark Mark."

She paused before talking, off-put by this comment.

"You and Ginny said the exact same thing," she said. "You really do think alike.

"You don't have a Dark Mark, but you do have your scar, which was home to so many of Voldemort's powers for years. It acted a lot like the Dark Mark branded on the Death Eaters."

"So are you saying that all the Death Eaters had a little bit of Voldemort's power?"

"Yes, but not enough to make a difference. They were all sadistic enough to enjoy torturing people on their own," Hermione wrinkled her face in disgust. "They gravitated towards Voldemort because they were already like that; he just taught them different ways to achieve their ends."

"Yeah, you're right about that." Harry and Hermione were both quiet for a minute. From the look on her face Harry thought she was still thinking about all the horrible crimes that the Death Eaters had perpetrated.

"I still don't see where you're going with this. Even if this had something to do with the powers I used to have, I don't have them anymore. They were gone as soon as Voldemort was."

"Magic always leaves a trace. Isn't that what Dumbledore said?" Hermione asked. "I think it's that trace that keeps flaring up when the Dark Mark appears."

"But that never –"

"Never happened before he was killed? Here's my theory on that. You know how things work fine until they break and then they never seem to work quite the same? What if your scar, once the power drained out of you, never really healed properly? It's sort of unstable now and can be irritated at the slightest connection to Voldemort."

"I guess," Harry said slowly. He didn't want to disappoint Hermione. She'd obviously been thinking about this a lot, and the stranger thing was that it made sense.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"It makes some sense . . . how would we know for sure?"

"We don't," she replied quickly. "There's no way to test without killing you."


	15. Colin's Photos

Harry sat back on the sofa to think over everything Hermione had said. It was starting to fit together. His scar bled when the Dark Mark appeared, the only remaining thing of Voldemort's creation. It didn't answer questions about why the Dark Mark had been cast where it was. Other than the fact that they were places where Harry had been . . . Damn, another thing Tougas had got right.

There's something else . . . Again its just a theory, but I think there's a connection between the missing Muggle-borns, the work the Department of Mysteries is doing on fear, and you." She cringed as she started to speak, but by the end of her statement, Hermione was back to her usual self, annoyed that she wasn't able to find the connection.

"That's an easy one," Ron said, coming into the room at last. "Malfoy and Lestrange are both crazy and think that they can resurrect Voldemort."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look and Harry was sure she was thinking the same thing he was: that could not be the reason.

"You can't bring back someone from the dead," Hermione stated.

"_We_ know that," Ron said, "but crazy people don't live in the same reality as we do."

"That's a fair point," Harry replied. "We have to take into account the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange has gone around the twist, probably even more so without her precious Dark Lord."

He fell silent for a minute, thinking about what Hermione had said. If she and Briony were right about fear, that led to more questions. What could Malfoy and Lestrange possibly want with fear, and how would that relate to bringing Voldemort back from the dead? And how did Hermione know about that research in the first place? The Department of Mysteries might be a lot more accessible under Kingsley's leadership, but they still weren't in the habit of giving out information to every person who inquired.

"How do you know what the Department of Mysteries is up to, Hermione?"

"I have my sources," she said evasively. Harry watched her for a minute to see if she was going to elaborate. When she didn't he chuckled.

"You know . . . I'll never understand why you didn't become an Auror. You're ten steps ahead of most of the people in my department. If you had joined up you'd probably be running the place by now. Is there anything I can do to convince you to change your mind?"

"A girl's got to have her secrets."

* * *

The following day Harry was back at the Quidditch stadium with the remainder of the task force. They were giving the place a more thorough inspection. While he hoped it would yield something they could use, Harry was not optimistic. Everyone could make mistakes but thus far Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange held perfect records. He wasn't entirely convinced that the phial of Polyjuice potion that had been left behind had been a mistake. It would be very like the two Death Eaters to leave it behind as a taunt to the Aurors.

Today he was once again working with Brazill, something Harry was glad for. Not only was she an exceptional Auror who was more than willing to share her expertise, she could also be very funny. In many ways she reminded him of Tonks, although not quite so nosy, and definitely not a Metamorphmagus.

"There?" Harry asked an hour into their investigation, pointing to a small door that was easy to overlook. "D'you think that they might have squeezed in there?"

"Out of the way, easy to miss . . . That's probably it," Brazill said excitedly, hurrying over. She started casting spells before she reached. "This door has known magic recently. I can't imagine it would be used frequently by the team, do you?"

Brazill waved her wand over the door as she spoke, her excitement apparent. Harry was in full agreement with her feelings. This would be further proof of his suspicions and, while it would not lead directly to the capture, the more information they had, the better.

"D'you think it was Malfoy and Lestrange?" Harry asked watching as Brazill continued to inspect the area.

"Almost positive. It's subtle, but do you see this?" Brazill pointed to the wall. Harry looked, but at first saw nothing but the green that adorned al of the walls of the Harpies stadium. He didn't notice anything odd about that. Upon closer inspection, however, he saw a tiny section of the wall where the paint was chipped, likely caused when the door was blasted open with enough force to hit the wall and rebound.

"Excessive force? Are you thinking Bellatrix Lestrange?" he asked.

"Very good. We can't really say for sure it was her. She wouldn't be the first witch to be violent . . . but its one more possibility. When we start getting enough of those it narrows our list of suspects substantially."

"Yeah it does." Harry was looking around more carefully now. If they could find traces of the flourish that he'd read exemplified Malfoy's wand work they'd have enough evidence to link him and Lestrange to the abductions. Then it would just be a matter of finding them.

After spending all day examining every part of the stadium for clues Harry thought his love for Quidditch might be dashed just a little. They were unable to find any physical sign that Malfoy and Lestrange had been there, other than the circumstantial. The interior of the stadium was sweltering in the June heat. When they were able to escape to the outside they were baking in the intense sun, something that did not improve their moods.

Dawlish, who was known to have replaced Moody as the leader of the task force, spent most of the day fending off owls. Many of the letters were from frightened and concerned people who thought the Ministry was again reverting to tactics like they had when Fudge was still Minister. They worried that Voldemort had again returned and it was being kept quiet. Harry couldn't believe it.

"I know he's definitely dead," he said as they stood sweating in the sun. "He can't come back. Why can't people understand that this time's different?"

"Because they don't know this time's different," Brazill said. "Not many people know the whole circumstance, do they Potter?"

This was quite true but it didn't help Harry when he wanted to rant. Several times he'd been in close proximity to Dawlish as a Howler came in. The various shrieks of angry and upset people were most unwelcome in conjunction with their frustration at their lack of success and the high temperatures.

When they had been over every inch of the place to Dawlish's satisfaction Harry was not the only one who sighed in relief. Even Tougas was too exhausted to add a snide comment. He walked away and Disapparated without a backward glance at Harry.

"I've got our notes mostly compiled." Brazill said, rolling up the scroll of parchment that had been trailing them all day. "It's no problem for me to write up this report. You go and check on that girl of yours."

Harry couldn't' begin to express his gratitude to Brazill for what she was doing. It would be a lot of work for her to do on her own and he felt bad for that, but his desire to check on Ginny had been growing all day. More than once he found himself wondering if there was more to her condition than exhaustion.

The chickens were strolling across the yard when Harry appeared there. He also thought he heard the unmistakable sound of Fred and George teaching Riley and Simon some new prank that they would get into trouble for later.

"Hello?" Harry called as he entered the house. The kitchen was again empty but the house most certainly was not. Within seconds of his call Molly poked her head out of the scullery.

"Hello, Harry. We thought you'd have been here a lot earlier. How did it go? Did you find anything to help you capture the people who cast that awful mark?" She was looking worried and very likely could have written her own Howler to the Ministry.

"Maybe. Its really too early to tell," he said, trying to sound off-hand.

"Thank goodness," she replied, also sounding like she was trying to make light of things. "Ginny's upstairs. She's been lying down all day."

"She has?"

Something that should have pleased Harry alarmed him. The times Ginny had actually listened to a healer and stayed in bed longer than an hour were so few and far between that they could easily be counted as nonexistent. What could have happened to make her finally listen?

Harry made his way up the winding staircase to the third landing. He listened for a few seconds for noise from her room. There was only silence so he lightly tapped and entered.

The curtains were drawn, making the room much darker than it should have been. Everything was cast in shadow, including the bed where, had Harry not already been told she was, he wouldn't have known Ginny was lying.

"Gin?" he called in a low voice. He didn't want to wake her if she was still sleeping. She definitely needed the rest. The Harpies had been working hard over the past weeks and therefore it wasn't surprising that she was exhausted. If she were suffering from something more she'd probably be in here for a few days.

There was no answer to his call.

Quietly as he could, Harry crept into the room. He just wanted to reassure himself that Ginny was indeed OK. He found her asleep in her bed. Despite the heat she had the covers drawn up to her neck.

Harry watched Ginny for some time. Even in the semi-dark and though she was sleeping he could see she was not resting peacefully. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was twitching as though she was in the throes of a bad dream.

Worried that she was dreaming about her time as Voldemort's captive, Harry considered waking Ginny. She should not have to endure recollections of that time. He reached out to shake her awake but she relaxed and a peaceful expression replaced the previous tension so he stayed his hand.

"Harry?" Hermione called softly from the doorway. He turned and saw her beckoning him out of the room. With one last glance at Ginny he heeded her call. When the door closed Hermione asked, "how's she doing?"

"She's still sleeping," he said, purposely keeping his answer simple. He didn't want Hermione reading things into Ginny's expression when he hadn't worked anything out himself. He was troubled by it and wanted some time to think things over and to talk to Ginny before he was inundated with everyone else's pet theories. Hermione already had some theories of her own judging by the expression on her face, but she followed Harry's lead and said nothing.

"So . . . feel like divulging your source of information yet?" Harry asked as they returned to the lower floors of the Burrow. He was keen to change topics.

"No, but I will tell you its no one of consequence, just someone I know in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry stopped ten stairs from the bottom. That department had become a lot less secretive in the years since the war, but it still seemed like someone was getting awfully chatty, or was it several people? The latter idea was even more disturbing. Percy, Briony and now Hermione were able to get confidential information out of the department. Who was to say that Malfoy and Lestrange weren't as well; Voldemort had always had spies in the Ministry so why wouldn't his two strongest and most loyal supporters? Malfoy would surely be watching his back, and Lestrange might be crazy but she certainly wasn't stupid.

"Are you going to stand here all day, blocking traffic?" Fred inquired, poking Harry in the back.

"Sorry." Harry quickly walked down the remainder of the stairs, careful to keep an eye on Fred. It wasn't wise to feel safe with one of the Weasley twins behind you. Fred, however, behaved himself. He didn't even make one of his usual jokes about Harry stopping to think inappropriate thoughts about Ginny. This was such unusual behaviour that Harry couldn't help commenting on it.

"That was odd," he said to Hermione going on to explain what had happened.

"They're worried about Ginny. The whole family is," Hermione replied. "Molly's been trying to talk to her all day . . . when she's awake, that is . . . Ginny just keeps insisting that its all due to exhaustion, but –" Hermione stopped and scrutinized Harry. " – We know that can't be true. She trained harder last year."

"Yeah," Harry said, acknowledging this for the first time. He had, of course, known that Ginny wasn't being entirely truthful, but having the comparison was reinforcing his worry.

"You spend the most time with her. What's she been like lately?" Hermione was still watching him like she was looking for a flaw in his story. Though he was unnerved by it, Harry almost hoped she would find one. Any explanation would be appreciated right now.

"I dunno. We had a rocky patch for a while, but for the last month or so things have been really good. I know she's been having some trouble sleeping, but Ikey gave her a dreamless sleep potion to take . . . it wasn't until yesterday that she started to look really ill anyway." Harry could hear the defensive tone in his voice and was annoyed by it. As he told Hermione everything he was even more irked that he hadn't questioned things earlier. Ginny could be stubborn but she'd never before flat out refused to follow the orders of a mediwizard, even Ikey. Harry thought back to when he had first noticed Ginny's trouble sleeping. He thought it had started around the time Dudley had walked in on her in the shower (something he still had to talk to the git about) when she had recalled what had happened with Voldemort. But . . . she'd been suffering from insomnia for weeks before that too, making Harry unsure of how to react.

"Hmmm." Hermione said, chewing her bottom lip. Harry could see she was thinking again, but shrugged when he looked at her curiously.

Ron, Bill and the twins came in a minute later.

"Where's Moody?" Harry asked, surprised he hadn't already seen him. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He's in talking with Arthur and Molly." She pointed to the sitting room. "He's trying to persuade them to help convince my parents to go into hiding. He also wants –" a huge eye roll, punctuated with a large sigh "- me to _stop_ working and go into hiding too."

"Not stop," Ron said aggressively, "but to work from home. He thinks it would be easier to manage your protection there. You couldn't be snatched mid-transport then. It's a good plan, isn't it?"

"Er . . . " Harry was reluctant to give an opinion when faced with Ron's eagerness and Hermione's surliness. He could see benefits and drawbacks to both plans and thus wanted to know what Moody's rationale was. One thought did occur to him though, and he voiced it. "If its safety you're concerned with, why not stay at Grimmauld Place? The Fidelius Charm is still active so they wouldn't be able to get you."

Ron was all for that idea, and Harry was rather partial to it himself and was ready to go tell Moody when Hermione put her foot down.

"No. I'm not being driven from my home," she said firmly.

"I understand that you want to stand up to them, but this isn't the way to do it," Ron said.

"Remember what happened the last time someone didn't listen and stay at number twelve?" Harry added for good measure, pointing upstairs to indicate he was talking about Ginny.

Hermione's firm resolve wavered a bit, but she recovered quickly.

"I know you both mean well," she said, "but this isn't the same situation. We're not dealing with the same villain here. And we've got Moody. He's the best Auror out there, isn't he?"

"He's also getting older," Ron stated fiercely. "Hermione, this isn't all a game. Those two Death Eaters are really after you, and –"

"Oh we don't even know that for sure," she snapped. "It's just a pet theory of that stupid task force –"

"Not really," Harry interrupted and then paused before he went on, wondering how much he should reveal. Finally he decided to tell her what the evidence seemed to indicate: that he was the target and they were targeting Muggle-borns increasingly closer to him. When he finished talking Hermione was speechless and he thought he might have won her over, but no such luck.

"Its still just a theory," she said, a trace of doubt entwined with her words. "But I'm still not going to let those two drive me from my home. We've got Moody. Between him and myself . . . I think we're enough to stave them off until reinforcements come, if necessary. And anyway . . . we've got enough chaos in our lives what with the wedding and all – we don't need to add to it."

A few strings of profanity began to form in Harry's mind at Hermione's ill thought out decision. He, and from what he could see, Ron were both ready to argue with Hermione on this point but she put up her hand.

"I've already made my decision. There's no use arguing about it."

Despite the finality in her tone, Harry and Ron kept at Hermione for another fifteen minutes until she blew up and forced them from the house at wand tip.

"Was it something you said?" George asked, having overheard the last of Hermione's words. Unlike Fred he was grinning dangerously. "C'mon you two, Fred and I are teaching the twins how to fly."

Harry and Ron looked at each other and at once knew they were thinking the same thing: Fleur would not like this at all.

"C'mon Harry, Ron," Fred echoed.

Reluctantly they followed the elder set of twins to teach the younger ones to fly.

"If Fleur catches us, you two are answering to her," Ron said. He explained his cowardice when they started to laugh. "Fleur's part Veela. Hermione's bad enough when she gets angry. She just conjures birds, she doesn't turn into them."

"Fair point, dear brother," George replied. "But we'll pluck that feather when it comes to it, eh?"

Their flying lessons reminded Harry very much of watching as the Dursleys taught Dudley how to ride a bike. There was a lot of steadying and not much actual flying. For the most part he stood back and watched as the twins ran around the back garden of the Burrow, chasing toy brooms. It gave him time to wonder if this was how he had learned to ride from his dad, or if there had even been time.

As Fred and George raced off on some daredevil stunt with the toy brooms, Harry couldn't stop from thinking about himself and Ginny. Would they ever be the ones worrying about their children falling off toy brooms? He looked up at her window and saw her looking down at him thoughtfully. Smiling, Harry raised his hand and waved at her. She returned a small, uncertain smile of her own. Even from this vantage point Harry could see she didn't look any better awake than she had asleep.

"What are you doing?" Fleur cried, rushing from the house and making straight to Fred and George. "'Ave you no sense? These are les enfants. They are too small for ze brooms."

Harry looked away from Fleur and back to Ginny's window, hoping she was still there, but the curtain had fallen back into place. Trying to hide his disappointment he turned to see if Fleur had shown more than just her temper.

"C'mon. We don't need to hear them being told off," Ron said and led the way back inside where they saw Ginny making her way down the stairs.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" Harry asked, meeting Ginny at the foot of the stair case and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Fine," she said. "I keep telling people that. I'm not dying."

Hermione pursed her lips at Ginny's comment but kept quiet. In and of itself this was an odd occurrence. Harry wanted to ask her what she was thinking but wasn't afforded the opportunity because of the hustle and bustle of the Burrow.

They were eating outside again. In an attempt to show everyone she was fine, Ginny led Harry out into the yard and tried to be the life of the party. While she did make a good show of it, Harry wasn't the only one who noticed that Ginny ate very little.

"You've got to eat something," Molly said. "You need to keep up your strength while you are recovering from your _exhaustion_."

"Fine," Ginny snapped and forced down the rest of the foot on her plate. As she was eating a loud crack sounded and a second later Lupin came running around from the front of the house.

"Tonks had the baby – a boy," he cried, looking too overwhelmed to have any other reaction.

Cheers sounded up and down the table. Everyone rushed over to wring his hand. Everyone, that was, except Harry and Ginny. She hung back, looking on warily. Harry stayed with her, watching from afar.

"Exciting news," she said, watching Fred and George summon a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Yeah." Harry put his arm around her. They both watched the scene for another minute. Lupin was smiling now, some of his shock leaving him. "He seems to be taking news of the birth better than he did the news Tonks was pregnant."

"Yes," Ginny said. She turned to look at Harry and he could tell that there was something she wanted to say but couldn't quite find the words. She hesitated, on the verge of speech for so long that Harry started to prompt her but she turned away. "Let's go offer our congratulations before Fred and George get him plastered."

The minute he saw Harry, Lupin broke free of the crowd.

"Congratulations." Harry gave Lupin a quick hug. "What's he called?"

Theodore Remus. Teddy, after Dora's dad . . . "

"Teddy Lupin?" Harry asked, trying the name out. He found that it fit well.

"My son, Teddy Lupin." He rubbed the stubble on his day old beard. "Who would have thought?"

"I bet my dad did," Harry said.

"Oh yes." Lupin smiled. "Your dad loved to talk about the little cubs that would be roaming around in the moonlight. He had whole monologues for us after you were born. If you ask me he had a few embarrassing pranks stored up for when the rest of us had kids . . . "

"Fred and George would have loved him," Ginny said, squeezing Harry's hand.

"Definitely." Lupin's smile faded and he was again looking serious. "He was a good friend to me, as have you, Harry. Not many people would want someone like me around . . . I don't know how to say this eloquently so I'll just – I'd like you to be godfather to Teddy."

"Me?" Harry asked, not really sure he had understood the request. He hadn't done anything to deserve this honor. "I . . . don't really . . . Sure, I guess."

"Brilliant." Lupin clapped him on the back. "I think we have time for another drink before I need to get back."

Harry declined the drink. The Aurors were on alert for any suspicious activity or display of dark magic. None of the other members of the task force would appreciate him showing up drunk.

Harry noticed that Ginny was also abstaining but wasn't at all surprised. She wasn't a heavy drinker at the best of times. Since her disastrous Quidditch party she'd been steering clear of the stuff. Adding ill health to the other two situations created a recipe for sobriety.

* * *

It felt like he had just gone to sleep when Ginny was shaking him awake.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"You said that half an hour ago," she said, shaking him more vigorously. "Get up. I've made coffee."

Grumbling, Harry rolled out of bed and stumbled to the shower. When he emerged not only had Ginny made coffee, but she'd made an entire breakfast. She hadn't missed a day a month.

"You really don't have to do this," he said. It was the same thing he'd said every morning for the last four weeks. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what she was doing, but he worried that she was overworking herself. Breakfast was hardly strenuous, but she still looked off-colour, and spent a great deal of time sleeping. Harry worried that maybe she had been taking too much of the dreamless sleep potion, but the bottle remained untouched.

"It's the least I could do," she said. One thing that had returned was Ginny's appetite. She was eating normally again.

He was running late and so only had time to munch on a few things before he had to leave. Harry muttered a goodbye to Ginny, apologized again for working the long hours.

"You're getting closer," she said certainly. "Once they're caught things will go back to normal."

Harry wished he could share Ginny's optimism. They'd been at this case for years and still had no progress. All the tips they were getting turned out to be for naught. The only interview Harry had been a part of that yielded any results was the one with Hera Crane. From the reports he'd been reading and hearing about, no one else had made any progress either. They'd been working very long hours, interviewing the remaining attendees at the Quidditch Semi-finals, and following up on all the new tips that were pouring into the Auror office from panicky witches and wizards. If a quarter of the sightings were true there would have to be twelve Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoys running around.

The most frustrating of all the work they were doing was the complete lack of progress. Not one of the people who had attended the Quidditch match had seen anything suspicious. No one had heard or seen anything about Colin Creevey either. It was this last point Harry brought up with Ginny.

"We're going to have another go at the Malfoy's Manor today." When Ginny looked up, stunned, Harry continued. "We're looking for anything that will help us find Colin and Justin."

"You can't think they're still alive, can you?" she asked, playing with her food and spending more time looking at it. "After so much time I think that finding Colin alive would be an unbelievable miracle."

"We're still going to try."

Harry had to stop by the Auror office before meeting the other members of the task force outside Malfoy Manor. Briony wasn't coming today so he needed to drop off his latest sheath of reports for filing. He'd been up until four finishing them. Briony would be able to file them while she was waiting for the task force to return.

Harry didn't see her at her desk so he left his reports for her. He was running sufficiently late and did not have the time to worry about where Briony was.

Not more than a minute later Harry was back outside, standing in a country lane bordered by tall yew hedges. Halfway along the road between where he had appeared and the drive that led to the Malfoy's mansion, Harry saw the other members of the task force.

"Sorry I'm late," he said rushing over. "I just –"

Dawlish put up his hand, which was probably a good idea because Tougas looked like he was preparing to say something.

"We've only been here a few minutes ourselves," Dawlish said. "Now we're all here we can get to work. You know what we're looking for."

Everyone nodded quietly and they started walking to the drive slowly. They knew well enough what they were there for. Their confidence of finding anything that would help their case was low though. Colin had already been gone four weeks and Justin's abduction had been more than four months previous. If there were any clues to be had here they surely would have found them on previous visits.

"I don't know what he's hoping to find here," Brazill said of Dawlish. "We've been here a dozen times in the years past. We removed all the dark objects when Malfoy was first arrested. Our sources indicate that they never came back here for any but the shortest visits after Malfoy was let out of Azkaban by You-Know-Who. All we're going to find here is a bitter and grieving woman."

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "But Narcissa Malfoy has never been the most cooperative person when it comes to the Ministry. Who's to say she didn't lie about her husband and sister staying here?"

Brazill nodded in agreement, a small smile on her face. She apparently approved of Harry's theory.

"We had thought of that, but there haven't been any signs that they've been back. Its not wholly unlikely, but not many people can cover their tracks that thoroughly."

Dawlish was speaking to the gate. Harry and Brazill fell silent and watched as the iron twisted into a fierce looking face and began speaking in a resounding metallic voice. "State your purpose."

He'd never been here before and Harry found it fascinating. He'd seen a lot of strange things since joining the wizarding world, but a metallic gate that contorted into a face and could speak was high on his list of most incredible.

"We've always shown up unannounced," Brazill continued as the gate swung open. "If they were here we'd surely have caught them, too. There's no way they could cover up so quickly and still have time to disappear."

For a moment Harry was at a loss for words. Brazill was right, of course, but Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were just slimy enough to slip out of the house without detection. But, he thought, there was still that unplugged leak in the Auror department. Maybe their arrivals weren't as unexpected as they thought. As they walked through the gates Harry, who was at the back of the group with Brazill, watched his colleagues. Could it possibly be one of them who were giving information about the case?

The thought was repugnant to Harry but he found himself considering it.

Dawlish was an exceptional Auror but he had been jinxed before. The first few times Harry knew of were the ones Dumbledore had told him about. One couldn't really include Dumbledore's jinxing ability with a comparison of everyone else's but Dawlish hadn't been working at peak performance lately anyway. Maybe he had been Confunded.

Behind Dawlish were Tougas and Tressa Hyde. Admittedly Harry knew very little about Hyde but she seemed quite straightforward to him. Tougas had given innumerable examples of how he was a git. Much as Harry would love to think that he was the traitor, it seemed unlikely given how fastidious Tougas was about his casework, including all of his annoying suspicions. No, he was too devoted to the case to be of any real suspicion. The same could be said for everyone else on the task force. Harry couldn't see how any of them, who had forsaken any real personal lives for this case, would be the very ones to sabotage it.

Even though she wasn't here, the same could be said for Briony. Next to Tougas she would have been Harry's other immediate suspect because of her ties to Umbridge. At least he would have considered her worthy of inquiry but he had long ago ceased thinking of Briony in relationship to her aunt. She, like the Aurors on the task force, had put any personal life aside and was going way beyond her actual duties to help. Harry knew that he wasn't alone in thinking they owed a lot to Briony's contributions. He'd often wondered if she was the reason Tougas had advanced so quickly. She might be a danger to herself and others in practical defensive magic, but she was a genius at research. She'd spotted patterns in the case that no one else had (like following up on the D.O.M's research on fear).

"I can't explain it, but I just have this feeling they've been here recently," Harry said to Brazill as they walked down the gravel driveway between the tall yew hedges.

A large house revealed itself to them as they rounded a corner. Harry couldn't say he was surprised at what he saw. The few times he'd given any thought to what the Malfoy home had been like he pictured it very similar to what he was staring at. He could hear a fountain running in the garden on the other side of the hedge, but all his focus was on the structure they were approaching.

The house gave no outward appearance of being home to some of the darkest wizards in Britain. It carried no signs that Voldemort's largest supporters slept here (or had some time in the past). The hedges were neatly trimmed all the way up to the brick house with mullioned windows. As they walked past Harry tried to see in the windows but only one revealed anything from inside of the house. Harry cast a glance to the second story and thought he caught a glimpse of blonde hair in the window above the door.

"Why'd she stay here if her husband is off doing all the dirty work?" Harry asked out loud. It was something he'd been thinking of for a while but voiced for the first time.

"Narcissa Malfoy was never a Death Eater," Brazill said. "I don't think she really knew half of what they got up to. Suspected, maybe, but she wasn't really privy to all the inner workings of the Death Eater organization. She's kept really quiet about the whole thing, but I can't imagine losing their son would have done wonders for their relationship . . . To lose a child . . . I don't even want to think of what I'd do if the same thing happened to my daughter."

"You have a kid?" Though she was ten years his senior, Harry found it incredible to realize that Brazill had a child. He hadn't spent much time thinking about the personal lives of his coworkers though and therefore he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.

"Yes. Here." She started to reach into her robes but a loud throat clearing from the front of their group made her cease and look up sheepishly. Dawlish fixed Brazill with an impatient look before he turned and rang the doorbell.

Almost instantly Narcissa Malfoy yanked open the door.

"What are you doing here again?" she asked angrily. "Have you not spent enough time harassing me?"

Dawlish tried diplomacy first. He started to tell her about their suspicions that Colin and Justin's disappearances were connected. They would appreciate her time and cooperation as they conducted their investigation, he said. They were looking for any information that would help them find the two missing Muggle-borns (Narcissa sneered at this) including that which might have been left behind by the Ministry's two prime suspects.

"Anything that would help us find answers for the families of these two young men," Dawlish said. His plea for her cooperation by the use of sympathy was the wrong method to take.

"Let them suffer," Narcissa said and slammed the door.

"Such a pleasant woman," Schultz replied dryly.

Dawlish raised his hand to ring again, with a firm expression on his face. He had his wand in his other hand.

"I'm going to try once more," he said. "If she reacts like that again we may have to use more forceful tactics."

An immediate fission ran through the group. Everyone backed away from him, exchanging wary looks.

"You can't be saying what I think you are," Schultz said. "You want to blast our way into the house?"

"I mean precisely that. She might be hiding something in there and keeping us out under the guise of grieving mother; that is tantamount to interfering with an investigation."

"John, be reasonable," Brazill said. "This woman lost her child. She's married to a man who abandoned her after that and took up with her sister. We've been invading her sanctuary with more and more regularity . . . don't you think that is quite enough reason for her incivility?" She allowed some time for her words to sink in. "I'll give it a go?"

No one objected to Brazill's offer. They parted to let her walk to the door. She rang the bell again. Not surprisingly there was no answer. Twice more she rang with the same result. Dawlish gave her a significant look.

"Let me try one more thing," Brazill said. Raising her wand to her throat, she muttered, "sonorous.

"Mrs. Malfoy this is Pamela Brazill. We just want to come in and talk to you and have a quick look around. We don't want to cause you any undue stress, but from one mother to another –"

The door was yanked open again and Narcissa reappeared, looking slightly flushed and a lot less composed than Harry had ever seen her. Gone too was most of the arrogance she had exuded.

"Turn that thing off, you stupid woman," she said, pointing her own wand at Brazill, who had already ended her spell. Upon seeing her raised wand, Harry rushed forward to intervene. He wasn't alone in his actions. Within seconds six wands were positioned between Brazill and Narcissa Malfoy. Seeing this the blonde woman lowered her wand. After looking at them all significantly, Brazill had everyone follow suit.

"Mrs. Malfoy . . . I'm sure you would have wanted someone to tell you what happened to your son. We're only working toward the opportunity to do the same for –"

"Don't play your stupid little sympathy card with me," Narcissa said viciously. "My son is dead because he helped one of your lot. Now you play on that death, asking for my help to persecute my husband and my sister?"

"Not persecute," Dawlish replied, taking his lead from Brazill and speaking with a softer tone. "We just want to make sure that everyone who has broken our laws is brought to justice."

Narcissa scoffed at this too.

"I will let you in, if only to show that the Ministry has it in for my family, but do not ask my questions, I shall not answer them." She turned and walked away, leaving the door open.

Harry was one of the last to enter the house. He quickly looked around, taking in the dark paneled walls covered with portraits (moving as always). They stepped onto a thick rug that covered almost the entire floor just in time to see Narcissa raise her hand and snap.

At once a girl and boy appeared. Harry judged them to be around eighteen, perhaps fresh from their last year at Hogwarts.

"These _Aurors_ are here to inspect the house for traces of Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Lestrange's presence. See they don't make a mess. Alert me when they're gone."

With one last haughty look at the seven Aurors, Narcissa turned on her heel and disappeared.

"So much for her not being arrogant anymore," Schultz said shaking her head as they split up.

Harry had hoped to partner Brazill again but Dawlish, for reasons best known only to him, set him to work with Tougas. The look on his face made it clear to Harry that Tougas wasn't enthusiastic about this pairing either. It had been months since they'd worked together one-on-one and they had been much better for it. But, Harry thought as they ascended the wide staircase, Tougas was still his supervisor and he should expect to work with him more often.

"I'll trust you to check out those rooms down there," Tougas said, pointing to the rooms on their left.

"What?" Harry asked in shock. He'd been prepared to have Tougas breathing down his neck since he thought Harry had some nefarious connection to this case.

"You heard me right, Potter. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind." He turned on his heel and strode down the hall on the right.

Harry stood there for at least a minute. Tougas had been adamant about ending Harry's continued involvement in the case. When someone took that strong a stance on something they generally didn't back down all of a sudden.

Such was his worry that Harry actually contemplated finding Dawlish and relaying the whole scene. Running his suspicions back though, he realized how ridiculous it sounded to say he thought Tougas was an imposter because he wanted Harry to do his job. Dawlish didn't seem to understand the nature of Harry and Tougas's relationship anyway, which would just make Harry's story less believable.

In the end Harry resolved to keep an eye on Tougas and to say something if he displayed any other nearly human behaviour. He decided to start at the end of the hall and work his way back to the stairs.

The very first room he stepped into was an extravagantly decorated bedroom that matched its owners perfectly. All the colours were green or silver and while there were no actual snakes present, the bedposts and tables gave the feel of a serpent.

Doubting that he was going to find anything in a room that looked like it hadn't been touched in years, Harry set to work. Not having a particular object or article in mind, he couldn't summon anything and had to resort to manually looking. In some ways he felt odd going through someone else's drawers but he felt better when he thought that there might be something in that armoire, or under the bed, or in the closet that would help them find Colin or Justin.

After twenty minutes in the first room Harry was confident he had been over everything and this room had nothing further to hide, so he moved onto the next room, which was similarly decorated and yielded the same lack of results.

Harry opened the door to the third room and stepped in.

This room, he knew, had once belonged to Draco Malfoy. It was not done up in the Slytherin colours, but rather in midnight black and silver. On the walls were pictures of various things, including what looked like Malfoy's favorite Quidditch team (the Wimbourne Wasps of all teams!), the wizard rock group The Weird Sisters (Ginny had that same poster in her room at the Burrow), and some pictures from what were probably the last days Malfoy had spent at Hogwarts with his fellow Slytherins.

Fascinated and appalled at the idea of seeing where Draco Malfoy grew up, Harry came in further. He ran his finger along the top of the dresser and didn't see a single line of dust. A few things were strewn over a high-backed leather chair as though they would be picked up later. A half-finished letter was lying on Malfoy's desk. When Harry went to have a look, he saw it was to Pansy Parkinson, one of Draco's fellow Slytherins. The parchment had faded to an aged yellow, the quill and ink long since dried up and wilted. All evidence was that this room had been turned into a shrine. Harry seriously doubted that any dark magic was hiding in this room and turned to go.

"What – Are – You – Doing – In – There?" Narcissa was standing in the doorway her face flushed again, a furious fire in her eyes.

"I was inspecting this room –" Harry started, tightening his grip on his wand.

"You? Of all people? You dare to come into my son's room and nose around in his personal things? You – the boy who nobody can kill but who can get others killed at the drop of a hat – standing here in my son's room? I won't have it! The murderer cannot be allowed to come into this room. Get out!"

"I didn't kill Malf – your son. He was the one who ran. If he'd have just stayed –"

"Don't you dare blame Draco for this. Don't. You. Dare." She was on him so fast she might have flown. They were practically nose-to-nose with their wands raised.

"Lower your wand," Harry said evenly, not flinching. When she didn't comply with his demand he repeated it. "Lower your wand or I will stun you. You have to the count of three. One . . . "

Narcissa lowered her wand, her fury slowly giving way to a sinister smile.

"You've sure become a mass of overconfidence, haven't you, Harry Potter? Perhaps you feel good about your lot in life: vanquisher of the Dark Lord and all that?" A look of triumph was growing on her face. "Overconfidence is a dangerous thing sometimes."

Harry knew what she was doing. She had flat out told them she was not going to help. He assumed this meant making threats that could inadvertently lead to clues. She was trying to rattle Harry. Realizing this allowed him to keep his cool. He was not the leak, and was going to make sure he didn't become it.

"That's just how your husband first got arrested, wasn't it? Its also how Draco got roped into service with Voldemort which eventually led to his death."

Narcissa backed away a few paces looking like she'd been slapped. She regained herself quickly, but not quickly enough to disguise her pain.

"And because you let these things happen your son is dead and your husband taken up with your sister." He hadn't quite been sure Brazill meant what he thought she meant earlier, but Harry used this to his advantage, hoping to rile Narcissa into becoming the one who revealed something. She looked angry for a minute but once more composed herself and replaced her anger with a menacing smile.

"Things are not always as they appear Potter. You should know that by now."

"True. But sometimes they are, and we just refuse to see it," Harry replied immediately.

This was not the reaction she had expected out of him. Harry watched as Narcissa bit her bottom lip for a second before looking around the room. He saw a resigned expression appear on her face as she took in the emptiness. Harry saw her try and fail to disguise the grief that Brazill had mentioned in passing earlier.

"I never approved of Draco's involvement with the Dark Lord, as you well know. It is not as if we had a choice. Sometimes things just happen when you're not watching as closely as you should be." Harry thought he saw her surreptitiously glance at him as she spoke but he couldn't be sure.

The doorbell rang.

"Pity our little chat is cut short, Potter. There's so much more I could have told you; so much more you would love to know." She was already walking out of the room.

Harry followed her and moved onto the next room, wondering if there was anything behind the words and emotions Narcissa had expressed. Though her grief did seem genuine he was troubled by the fact she was spending so much time watching his reaction. It was almost as if she had been coached on what to say – to try and rattle him. Was he right? Had she been speaking with Bellatrix or Lucius? This would lend more support for Tougas's theory.

He'd just turned the knob on the fourth room when he heard raised voices. One was Narcissa Malfoy. The other, though loud and angry, he couldn't make out, but it did have a familiar ring to it. He only clued in to why it was familiar when Tougas came speeding from one of the rooms halfway down the right hall. Harry followed suit.

At the top of the stairs Harry almost literally knocked into Tougas and Briony.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Tougas asked, clutching her arms and looking at Briony with deep concern. She tried to speak but her voice failed her for a minute, trying to regain her breath.

"Here, let me draw you up a chair." Tougas raised his wand to do this very thing but Briony waved him away.

"Just . . . a minute," she gasped, leaning on him for support. It took another minute or two before she could speak, and when she did it was Harry and Tougas who were breathless. "We may have found out what happened to Colin Creevey."

Minutes later eight people hurried out of Malfoy Manor and headed back for the country lane where they Disapparated and reappeared in a London flat even smaller than Harry's.

A tiny man was sitting at a small table staring into a cup of tea. When they all appeared he jumped up, knocking his cup of tea over the surface of the table. It missed an expensive looking camera by inches.

This had to be Mr. Creevey. He had the same large ears, mousy hair, and wispy build as his son. Harry rather thought that he was staring at the spitting image of Colin thirty years in the future.

"You're Colin's father?" he asked and received a mute nod.

"What do we have here, sir?" Dawlish asked, looking around the seedy flat. "We were told you have information on your son's whereabouts."

Mr. Creevey's shoulders already lowered when they arrived, slumped even further.

"No. I don't know. I was just told to let you know if anything odd happened here. I was just around yesterday to water the plants and everything was in order. This morning when I came in Colin's camera was sitting right here in the middle of the table. The door was locked and all, so I don't think it could have been kids or anything . . . even if they would have left his camera . . . "

Harry hadn't given the camera more than half a second of his attention. Now he was looking at it he could have sworn it was the very one slung around Colin's neck the night of the Quidditch match.

"Did you disturb this camera at all?" Tougas asked, not unkindly, stepping forward.

"No. I did what I was told. As soon as I saw it here I got in contact with your office. If this camera can help to find my son . . . I don't want to do anything to jeopardize that." He had a desperate look in his eyes that Harry couldn't help comparing to that of Narcissa Malfoy. No trace of deception was hiding in this man's eyes. His only concern was for the whereabouts of his son.

Harry watched Tougas collect the camera, careful not to touch it. They did not know what this was meant to show them. It could be just a simple camera, but there could be all sorts of spells and dark magic on it as well. The last thing they needed was to run into some dangerous spell when they weren't properly equipped to deal with it.

Dawlish and Brazill were waving their wands around and muttering incantations under their breath. They were testing for any sign that magic had been used here, anything to link the camera's sudden appearance with Malfoy and Lestrange. The grim looks they wore when they lowered their wands were more than enough of an indication to Harry that they weren't having any luck.

Dawlish told Harry, Brazill, Schultz, Hyde and Kitson to do a physical sweep of the flat to make sure they weren't missing any signs that their two suspects had been there. He and Tougas bent over the camera and began doing some preliminary tests to make sure that it was safe for transport. Once more, Harry and the others rustled through the flat without much conviction. They were not disappointed when they found no evidence that someone had been there.

"We'll take this back to headquarters," Dawlish explained to Mr. Creevey. "Once we've completed our analysis we'll let you know what we've found."

"Thank you," Mr. Creevey said weakly. He sank down into his chair and stared at the table with the same lost expression on his face. Harry looked around at his fellow Aurors, all of whom were exchanging nervous glances, unsure of how to react. Surprisingly it was Tougas who stepped forward.

"Would you like a hand getting home, sir?" The sincerity and empathy in his voice was so uncharacteristic that it wasn't only Harry who cricked his neck turning to look at his supervisor. The only person not surprised by Tougas's behaviour was Briony. She just shrugged and went to stand by Tougas.

"I . . . " Mr. Creevey looked around the flat hopelessly. Harry thought he was going to refuse, to say that he wanted to stay here a little longer, but his shoulders slumped again and he nodded, saying, "thank you."

"I'll come with you," Briony offered.

Out of respect the rest of the task force waited until Tougas and Briony were gone before they Disapparated.

"Welcome home," Schultz said as they reappeared in the Auror office. Harry looked around at the brightly lit corridor and breathed a sigh of relief. The others were doing the same.

They filed into the briefing room while Schultz ran to get the appropriate potion to develop Colin's film. As they waited the excitement was palpable.

"So what do you think was up with Tougas back there?" Brazill asked Harry. "I didn't realize they knew each other."

"I don't think they do, but now you mention it its not the first time he's acted decent today." Harry recounted his shock at what Tougas had done earlier. "Maybe he finally took that dose of congeniality potion."

Brazill chuckled softly but Harry's amusement faltered.

"You don't think he's been replaced by an imposter? Maybe he's been polyjuiced or something?"

"No. Not everyone can pull off the Polyjuice trick. And besides that, you know that the Minister enhanced security around here tenfold. If there's even a hint of concealment or disguise we'd know about it straightaway. No, I think this change has a much more pleasant origin." Brazill winked at Harry and nodded in the direction of the door where Briony was entering, followed by Tougas.

"You don't think . . . " Harry said, catching her meaning.

"Oh, I do think," she said quietly. "Its actually quite obvious. Schultz and I have a bet on as to how long it's going to take them to get together. I've called six more months."

Harry snorted, but it went without comment because Schultz returned seconds later. She was shuffling through a stack of pictures, looking grim.

"Here," she said, flinging the pictures down on the table. "Have a look at what Malfoy and Lestrange think is funny."

With the others Harry leaned over. Though Colin was still using a Muggle camera the pictures had been developed in the appropriate magical potion so that they moved. This wasn't necessarily a good thing.

The very first picture Harry looked at showed Colin hanging upside down. He looked terrified and abused. Both of his eyes had been blackened; he'd been hit in the jaw, which was swollen and deformed. Harry had no doubts that there were similar injuries on the rest of his body: the bloody stains and tattered state of his clothing attested to that fact

"Oh my," Briony said faintly, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh."

Briony sped from the room closely followed by Tougas. Though it looked like everyone else would have loved to follow suit they could not.

Harry felt his stomach turn each time he looked at a new photo. The first was the tamest of the dozen that were laid out across the table. Several of the photos showed Colin scrunched up as best he could be in his suspended state, his mouth open wide and his eyes scrunched up.

"The Cruciatus," Brazill said, pulling out her trusty parchment and writing down her comment. She looked angry.

The other photos showed Colin in various states of fear and pain. The second to last was the worst. A streak of green light shot towards Colin and the look of abject fear in his eyes was enough to silence any questions as to what spell had been cast. The final photo removed the last vestige of doubt. Colin was lying on the ground, motionless. The photo had been taken with sufficient focus on his face for Harry to recognize the stare of death.

"I hope he went quickly," Hyde said quietly. "But judging from the changes in his bruising as well as his facial hair, best guess is a few days . . . more likely a few weeks."

Dawlish looked like he wanted to kick something.

"We've got to find these monsters," he said through clenched teeth. "We can't let them alone out there killing people and flaunting it. We'll have Tougas and Briony go back to the father's. They seem to have a rapport with the man. Hyde, Kitson – you keep following up on those reports. Brazill and Schultz, I want you two back at Creevey's flat and go over every inch of that place. I have to go talk to Moody. Potter, come with me. Once Moody hears this he's going to want to have another go at changing Ms. Granger's mind."

"OK," Harry said, not able to tear his eyes away from the last photo in the array. He knew that Hermione wasn't going to change her mind no matter how many times they talked to her. When she made a decision it was extremely difficult to change it.

As predicted she still refused to listen to any requests that involved her leaving her house.

"I've already got Ron stopping home twelve times a day," she said irritably. "And Moody is here. I'm not going anywhere, so stop asking."

"Be reasonable," Ron tried to persuade her. "You haven't even listened to what they have to say. Harry and the others can't have stopped by just to have another go at getting you to change your mind. Something must have happened."

"He's right," Harry said with an encouraging nod from Moody and Dawlish. "We . . . er . . . found out what happened to Colin tonight. He's dead."

This was the last thing that Ron and Hermione had been expecting Harry to say. Ron swore under his breath and Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"You're sure? It's not a hoax or anything?" Ron asked, putting his arm around Hermione.

"No hoax," Moody replied. "He was tortured for weeks. Only after he was too weak to put up any more resistance did they kill him. That is the fate that awaits you if you don't start listening to us."

Even Harry, who was very much in agreement with Moody, thought this was going a little far. He wanted Hermione to reconsider, but Moody was almost threatening her. It was a scare tactic that didn't work well with Hermione. She bristled, pulled herself to full height and affixed a determined look on her face.

"I've already told you that I will not be run out of my home. We don't even know for sure that I am on their list of victims for starters. Even if I am though, we already know that if they want something bad enough they'll find a way to get it. You've already got me working from home. Step up security here if you must, but do not ask me to leave again. I will not let them win."

Harry, Ron and Moody tried to tell Hermione that it would not be letting them win to leave her house. Malfoy and Lestrange were not trying to frighten her; they were trying to kill her. Letting them win would be getting captured. Hermione wouldn't back down though. She insisted that this was not the same as what had happened with Ginny and that she was prepared to go down fighting. Ron didn't like this at all. Harry, Moody and Dawlish left as Ron and Hermione started in on what promised to be a spectacular row.

"She's a fool," Moody said, back at his tent. "We can't properly protect her here."

"Let's just hope Tougas is wrong about this one then," Harry said, crossing his fingers.

It was nearing midnight when Harry finally returned home. He felt like he'd been gone for three days, rather than the sixteen hours he'd actually been away.

All was quiet and the lights were low, making it hard for him to take in an accurate picture of his surroundings. The first thing he did see when his eyes had adjusted was Ginny asleep on the sofa. She'd been waiting for him to return again. Tonight was the one night Harry really wished she hadn't done so. He'd spent a good deal of time at Ron and Hermione's thinking about how he was going to break this horrible news to Ginny. She was the closest to Colin, of course.

He walked around as quietly as he could, hoping not to wake her, but Ginny was up almost at once.

"Hi," she said groggily. When Harry turned around she was already sitting up. "You're late. Did something happen?"

Harry debated about lying, but this sort of thing wasn't going to stay secret for long, and it was better for her to know anyway.

"Yeah," he replied. He joined her on the sofa, trying to think of how best to tell Ginny what had happened. Hesitantly he began to speak. "We got some information on Colin . . . he's – Gin, you were right about him." He watched her closely as she processed his words.

"You . . . found him?" she asked quietly, wearing an unclear expression. "Was he badly injured . . . or –"

"We haven't found his – him yet, no. But we know he's gone." Ginny really didn't need all the gory details.

Without betraying anything of what she was thinking or feeling Ginny stood up and walked once around the sofa.

"How?" she asked. "How do you know if you haven't already found him?"

"We saw him get hit with the killing curse," Harry said eventually when Ginny continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer. "They took photos."

This was as far as Harry was willing to go. Ginny didn't need to be troubled by the exact nature of Colin's death. It was better she thought he'd gone quickly.

"I'm so sorry, Gin." Harry also stood and pulled her into an embrace. She didn't resist, but seemed numb. Her eyes were still dry.

"At least he's out of their grasp now," she replied after a minute. Her voice was heavy with unshed tears as she extracted herself from his embrace and walked over to a shelf in the corner of the room where she pulled down a large photo album: a present from Colin on her last birthday.

"Come have a look?" she asked, sitting down once more. Harry joined her.

Ginny began thumbing through the photos, most of which were from their years at Hogwarts. There were pictures with Ginny and her classmates from first year all the way up to the last year she and Colin were at the school together. There was a picture of her at the Yule Ball with Neville Longbottom, another from her fourth year when they had been heavily involved in Dumbledore's Army. There were several of her playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, including the final game that she had played while Harry was still at Hogwarts, the one he'd been forced to miss because of that detention with Snape.

The very last picture was taken during Ginny's last Quidditch game with the Harpies in her first season. They'd won that game but hadn't played well enough to make it to the finals. The previous four pictures had shown some of her game play, but this was a post-match picture of herself and Harry taken during the Harpies celebration.

Ginny turned the page and read the tiny inscription Colin had written:

_We'll fill up the rest of these pages with the wedding and baby photos._

He had drawn a smiley face beside the sentence and it winked playfully at them as they read. Ginny traced a finger over the writing.

"I guess he won't be doing that," she said.

Not knowing how to respond to this Harry remained quiet, just stroking her hair. "He really thought he was going to be around for all of that."

"So did we," Harry replied.

"Yeah." Ginny looked from the book to Harry. "Things don't seem to work out the way we want them to."

A single tear appeared at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away quickly but there was another, and then another and soon she wasn't fighting it anymore.


	16. Rise Of The MuggleBorn

The weather was taunting them, Harry thought, looking up at the cloudless blue sky. It seemed very wrong for the day to be so perfect when they were taking part in something that had been so terrible.

Placing an arm around Ginny, Harry turned his attention back to the Muggle Minister, his eyes landing on the photo of Colin that stood on a temporary pedestal (to be replaced with a memorial). Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were standing back in the small crowd and weren't able to clearly hear the minister, but they could hear Mr. Creevey's dry sobs.

"That poor man," Hermione said, looking up at the front sympathetically. "Losing his wife, and now his son."

Ron shot Harry a hopeful glance, which Harry shook his head to deny. This was definitely the wrong time to bring up the move to Grimmauld Place, even if Hermione might be more disposed to listen to them.

"Dennis told me he's been holed up in his bedroom for days and won't eat or drink," Ginny informed them.

Harry couldn't really say he was surprised. He'd overheard Tougas and Briony talking the day after they'd made the discovery of Colin's camera. Briony had been reassuring Tougas that they had to tell Mr. Creevey the details of his son's death. Knowing what Colin had suffered in the last days of his life would be enough to turn off most people's appetites.

When the Minister finished talking everyone stood up. Harry saw, through the crowds, that Mr. Creevey stood only with heavy support from Dennis and his sister, Maria.

"Should we start making our way over?" Ron asked, looking around at the other mourners. "To offer our condolences, I mean."

They'd arrived late and thus hadn't been able to speak with the Creeveys before the service. They apparently weren't the only ones either. A line had formed in front of Mr. Creevey.

"Isn't that Tougas?" Ginny asked, pointing to the man standing directly behind Mr. Creevey.

"Yeah, it is," Harry replied, shocked that he hadn't seen him before. What was Tougas doing there, acting like he was part of the family? Why was he so nice to this man when he practiced various forms of sarcasm with everyone else? Harry spotted Briony standing about ten feet to Tougas's right. She would have answers to these questions. He caught her attention and waived her over.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked sharply when she noticed who was approaching. "Why'd you invite her over here?"

"Because I have some questions for her. Be nice," he told her. Ginny gave him an annoyed look and turned to talk to Ron and Hermione.

"Hi," Briony said uncertainly when she noticed that Ginny was ignoring her.

"Hey. Listen, I just wanted to ask you – what's up with Tougas and Mr. Creevey? I've never seen him like that with anyone its _almost_ like he has a heart."

The corners of Briony's mouth turned up ever so slightly. Before she said anything she watched Harry appraisingly for a moment. Harry wondered if she was going to say anything at all.

"Don't tell Bredan I'm telling you this," she said quietly, coming a little closer. "But he lost his parents and sister to You-Know-Who when he was just a child. He took it hard and I don't think he's fully accepted it. Mr. Creevey reminds him of what he went through."

"What?" Harry asked, stunned.

He'd assumed that Tougas had been born grouchy, not that he had at least a partial reason for why he was the way he was.

"Yeah." Briony looked over at Tougas, who was standing behind Mr. Creevey as though he was his bodyguard. "He was away the night they were killed, otherwise he would have been done in as well."

Harry watched Tougas for a moment, digesting what Briony had said. This explained a lot. Harry had a new understanding of why he'd become an Auror, why he was as protective of Briony, and his attraction to Mr. Creevey.

"What are you thinking?" Briony asked in a voice laced with the tiniest hint of panic. "You're not going to say anything, are you? Because –"

"I won't say anything," Harry told her. "I was just . . . this is surprising."

"What is?" Ron asked, as he, Hermione and Ginny turned their attention to Harry and Briony.

"Nothing. We were just talking about Tougas. I was commenting on how odd it was to see his reaction to Mr. Creevey."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "You know, I haven't had many dealings with him myself, but he sure does have a lot of similar reactions to you, Harry, as Snape did."

"Except for the fact that Snape could be funny," Ron stated. When they all looked at him in shock he continued, a little defensively. "He could. We usually didn't like what he said but . . . "

It took some time for them to reach Mr. Creevey, his sister and his son. Harry felt a little uneasy about the meeting. He had been there the day they discovered the camera after all. Mr. Creevey didn't seem to bear him any ill will for it. He thanked Harry for his condolences in an empty voice. When Ginny approached him, he hugged her.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to my son, I know he appreciated your relationship."

"He was a great friend to me, too," she replied. "I'm sorry he had to go through all this."

Mr. Creevey blinked rapidly and said thank you again. Then his sister chivvied them along.

"D'you think it's too early to leave?" Ron asked, pulling at his necktie. "Its hot as hell out here."

Harry was more than ready to go, but he looked at Ginny. Colin had been her friend and therefore she got to decide when they were going to leave.

"Yeah, let's go. I think all this heat has made me tired," she said. She did look like she could use a nap.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione returned to the nearby copse where Moody had been stationed, waiting for them. They hadn't thought it a good idea for him to come all the way to the ceremony with them, given how little he was able to blend in. Moody only relented when Harry said that Hermione would be mere feet away from him all the time.

"Nothing at all suspicious," Moody said, sounding even more alert for that very fact.

"Good." Harry had given up trying to predict what Malfoy and Lestrange's next move would be. The probability of them showing up was about as equal as their absence. They'd maintained a total silence since bringing Colin's camera to his flat. The tips on reported sightings seemed more far-fetched lately as well.

"Even so, we can't risk it again," Moody said, looking directly at Hermione. It had been she who insisted on coming to Colin's memorial. "We've already been bending the rules of protection. If we keep doing it there will be hell to pay, you mark my words."

"Really!" Hermione said angrily. Harry could see she was gearing up to say more. He interrupted her build-up.

"I'm sure she realizes that, Mad-Eye," he said. "Which is why they are going to go home now."

Ron took his meaning at once, but he had always been on the Ministry's side when it came to Hermione's safety. It was Ron who said, yes they would leave at once.

"Don't you have a lot of work to do anyway?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she replied in a reluctant voice before fixing Harry and Ginny with a significant look. "Yeah, I guess I do."

For the first time a tiny look of satisfaction appeared on Moody's face. He readied himself and Hermione to Disapparate.

"I guess we'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow then," Hermione replied just as they were about to leave.

"Yes." This time it was Ginny who spoke this time. "Mum told me she wants us all there for four o'clock."

"We'll be there," Hermione called at the last second before she, Ron and Moody twisted and disappeared. Once they were safely away Harry turned to Ginny.

"Are you ready to go?"

Ginny didn't answer right away. She was staring at the precise spot where Hermione had been moments before. Harry was sure he saw the same thoughtful look on her face as he had seen on Hermione's when she was trying to work out what was wrong with Ginny.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Huh?" she asked distractedly, looking at him, but obviously still thinking about something else. "Oh, nothing. Let's go."

They Disapparated and seconds later were once more exiting from the alley, unseen by any Muggles.

"Gin, what was all that about?" Harry asked the minute they were in the door of the flat. "Why are you and Hermione both looking like you have some great secret?"

"What?" From the tone of her voice he knew she had heard him perfectly but was avoiding answering his question. He repeated it.

"Oh. I think she suspects –"

"You're back?"

Dudley's appearance could not have been more ill timed. In the same way that he knew she had been lying to him about not knowing what he said, Harry knew she had something important that she wanted to tell him. It didn't seem like something she would say in front of his cousin.

"Dudley, go away for a minute," he said without looking at him.

"Wha – " Dudley started to say.

"No, don't bother. We'll talk later." With that Ginny walked toward the bedroom, careful to give Dudley a wide berth. She kept her head down during the few seconds it took to close the distance between where she had been standing with Harry and the bedroom.

Dudley did the exact opposite.

Though he tried to pretend that he wasn't watching her, Dudley had never been great at subtlety. He even turned his head ever so slightly to watch Ginny pass.

"What d'you think you're doing?"

Dudley snapped his head back, wearing an expression like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Wasn't doing anything," he mumbled.

"I saw you," Harry started, torn between his anger at Dudley's relapse and amusement at the blatant lie that he had just told.

The anger won out when Harry gave it a second's thought. It had been over a month since Ginny had told him about Dudley's behaviour in the loo. He'd made it a top priority to speak with his cousin at the first opportunity. With all the crazy hours he'd been working lately it had taken a hundred times longer than he thought it would have done.

"What the hell is up with you and Ginny lately?"

"Whaddaya mean?" Dudley made his own inquiry. He shuffled his feet, completely destroying the innocence his words were meant to portray.

"Don't play this game with me. Ginny told me about what you did, and I have eyes."

"What I did?" Dudley feigned confusion. He scratched his head as though trying to recall what Harry was talking about.

"Don't act like you've forgotten. You're rubbish at it." Harry took a few steps, closing the distance. He was trying to maintain his temper. Dudley had been so different from his old self lately that Harry wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it was hard when he thought back to what his actions had made Ginny recall.

"I'm not. I honestly don't – I thought that she and I were getting on fine," Dudley looked over at the closed bedroom door. "I didn't realize she had a – oh . . . the bath . . . "

"Yeah, that," Harry replied sarcastically. "Why? What else have you _not_ been doing?"

"Nothing. I swear! That whole thing . . . I swear that was just an accident. She kind of flew off the handle. Understandable, but . . . "

"You're right it's understandable. Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe you should try it some time then." Harry was watching Dudley closely. He was still digesting what had been said. It didn't take a genius to know there was something that Dudley wasn't owning up to. Only now did Harry realize he should have acted on this sooner. Ginny wasn't known for overreacting. Certain behaviours she'd exhibited over the last month now made sense. Dudley had been behaving like this for the last month.

"I – I will."

"And you'll stop whatever else you're doing that's making her uncomfortable. If I hear of anything else . . . " Harry let that hang for a minute. Dudley didn't nod right away. Harry was sure he was considering what could happen to him if he didn't comply. Finally he did give a quick nod.

After that Dudley seemed most anxious to get out of the flat. Harry let him go, but vowed to keep a closer eye on Dudley than he'd been doing at present. His cousin's behaviour tonight, and those little shudders or angry expressions Ginny had been not quite successfully hiding told him he hadn't been paying enough attention to what was going on at home. All of that was going to change.

With everything else that was going on at the moment the last thing Ginny needed was to put up with Dudley. She was more than a match for him Harry wasn't worried about that (even Dudley's new and improved magic-wielding couldn't hold a candle to a fully trained witch) but she shouldn't have to be on guard all the time. No, it was time to have another talk with Kreacher about getting Dudley into Grimmauld Place.

Despite wanting to talk to Ginny and worrying that she might be asleep if he waited to long, Harry stayed in the sitting room until Dudley left for the evening. He was just getting up to go and check on her when the door opened and Ginny came out.

"Good, you're awake," he said. "I was just coming to talk to you."

"About what?" she asked a little too casually, skirting around Harry and stepping into the kitchen.

"You were in the middle of telling me something that seemed important when Dudley came out."

"Oh that," she said, beginning to pull vegetables out of the refrigerator. "It was nothing really. I was just overreacting, is all."

Harry could tell she wanted to avoid the subject because she was concentrating on emptying several shelves of food onto the counter.

"Why don't you tell me and then we can decide if you were overreacting together?"

Ginny shrugged off this question too and pulled out half a squash.

"What are you going to do with that?"

Another shrug as Ginny immediately turned to pull out a bowl of grapes that had been in the back of the refrigerator since around the time Harry had moved into the flat.

"Gin?"

"What?" she demanded angrily, slamming the grapes on the counter. They spilled all over the floor. This made her even angrier. She bent down and started to throw the grapes back in the bowl.

"Here," Harry said, using his wand to clean up the remaining grapes on the floor. Rather than thanking him, Ginny stood up again and slammed the bowl for a second time, causing a few more grapes to escape. Harry couldn't help chuckling.

"I don't need you following behind me to clean up, you know," Ginny snapped. "Especially when you do such a lousy job of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ginny's answer was to roll her eyes in exasperation. She went back to cleaning up the repeatedly spilled fruit.

"You're talking about Dudley?" he asked after a minute.

"Now why ever would I be mad about that?" she asked sarcastically, turning for the first time to face Harry directly. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you accepted his whiny story without question now would it?"

"I didn't –"

"A story," she interrupted, talking over Harry, "that was so obviously a lie even Luna Lovegood wouldn't believe it."

"Gin, I don't believe him, so I'm going to get him moved into Grimmauld Place."

She rolled her eyes again and once more returned to making a pile of produce on the counter.

"What are you doing?" he asked, determined to get at least one answer from her this evening.

"Looking for something to make for dinner," she said shortly, pulling out a blackened item that had been a banana in a former life.

"Stop." Harry grabbed the banana from her and threw it in the rubbish bin. "You don't have to cook again. Why don't we just go out?"

Ginny looked vaguely intrigued for a moment but then her face fell and she returned to what she was doing.

"No. I'd better get used to cooking. I'm going to be doing it for the rest of my life seeing as how I can't play Quidditch."

"Why? Did you hear something from Jordana?" Harry asked suddenly feeling alarmed.

"No, no, nothing like that," she said, fixing him with one of those meaningful expressions like she'd been doing quite often lately.

"Did you finally go see a healer then? What is it?"

"No. I've told you I don't need to see a healer. Its – about Hermione's suspicions. I think she knows . . . " Ginny looked down for a second. Harry leaned in closer as though he was about to hear a huge confession, which it felt like he was. "She's pretty perceptive. She knew things weren't going well a while back, before the . . . shower . . . and I think she knows that he's started again. Dudley, I mean."

"Tell me." Harry thought he already knew based on what she'd been alluding to before, but he wanted to hear her actually say it.

"Nothing really, just certain things . . . like tonight for instance." She was starting to look really uncomfortable now and looked up at Harry. "I can usually handle him, you know that, but lately . . . "

"Lately what?" Harry asked slowly, trying to keep his voice calm, but just from her reaction he was already making plans on how best to track down Dudley.

Ginny shrugged again. She was looking more and more doubtful as this conversation went on. Though he had no basis for it, Harry wondered if some of her doubts stemmed from the fact that she had been the one who had pressed to have Dudley stay here. Even though it was the case it didn't mean that she had to put up with Dudley's relapse.

"One way or another he's gone," he replied. "I should have done it straightaway like I was going to. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I guess you should have," she stated. "Just . . . if he tries anything else . . . I promise there will be bodily harm."

Harry winched involuntarily. This was not an idle threat from Ginny, especially when it was in relation to Dudley.

"Got it," he said, chancing a smile. He reached out to touch her cheek; Ginny returned his smile weakly and removed his hand before turning back to what had formerly been a clean counter.

"Exactly how many people are you expecting for dinner, Gin?"

"Two. I just don't know what I want." She looked slightly frustrated at this statement. She stared at all the food, including the quarter full bowl of decomposing grapes, looking completely lost.

"This isn't just about food or Dudley, is it?" Harry asked, realizing how obvious the question was once he asked it. When Ginny said nothing he pulled her away from all the food and had them both sit down at the table. "Gin, what's going on? You've not been yourself since the Quidditch match."

"I've told you I'm fine. I just –" she stopped abruptly and stared at him thoughtfully again.

"See," Harry stated after a minute. "You've been doing that a lot lately. What d'you want to tell me?"

Ginny seemed taken aback at how direct he was, but she almost seemed relieved.

"Well, there is something. I've been trying to find a way to tell you for a while now." She bit her bottom lip, looking more nervous than Harry had seen her in a long time. He also thought she looked guilty. What could she possibly feel guilty about? He remained silent and waited for her to work up the courage to say what she wanted to say. Eventually she took a deep breath. "Harry, I'm –"

She stopped and peered over his shoulder in the direction of the fireplace. Harry turned to see what she was looking at.

Brazill's head was floating in the flames. Knowing that her sudden appearance could mean nothing good, Harry swore under his breath and looked hopelessly at Ginny, who was doing the same. Why did people have such impeccable timing?

"I'm very sorry to interrupt," Brazill said as Harry walked over to the fireplace. She glanced from Harry to Ginny with a question in her eyes. "I know this was supposed to be your day off, but we might have found something. Can you make it in?"

"Er . . . " He turned back to look at Ginny. These things always happened at the worst times and Ginny was frequently the one who got the short end of the stick. She nodded ever so slightly. Knowing he had a lot to make up for Harry said, "Yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"I'm so sorry about this, Miss. Weasley," Brazill stated.

"Sure," Ginny replied, shrugging and smiling understandingly. Harry watched her for a minute after Brazill disappeared, looking for any trace of disappointment. She showed none.

"Ever feel like we're not allowed to talk?"

"Yes." She paused. "D'you think maybe they've found out something about Colin?"

"Possibly," he replied, not sure if she was asking purely out of concern for her friend, or to steer clear of the confession she had been about to make. "D'you still want to tell me what you were about to before we were interrupted."

"I do, but now's not the time. We'll talk later, I promise. You've got to go deal with this. Maybe you'll find out those photos are fake or something."

It was not the first time Ginny had voiced this opinion. Harry knew that she wanted to believe this because it was hard for her to accept Colin's death. It was a fair point though. A slight possibility had existed that the pictures were fakes. Excellent fakes, but fakes nonetheless. He'd gone to work the day after the photos were found and brought this theory up. Schultz said they'd done all those tests overnight and unfortunately the photos were real. Harry told Ginny that, but she said she was going to keep hope that they had been duped.

"I'll see you later." With a quick kiss on the cheek (because Ginny turned her head at the last minute) Harry grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

Unlike usual, Harry was one of the first to arrive. When he stepped into the briefing room only Brazill and Briony were there.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly," Brazill said, looking up. She had dark circles under her eyes and was looking sad. "Sorry to have interrupted your evening. Looked like you were having an important coversation."

"Forget it. What's going on?" he asked.

"I'll let Briony tell you since she was the one who got the report."

Harry turned, waiting for Briony to start talking exuberantly as was usually the case when she obtained information like this. She, however, said nothing, instead continuing to watch her parchment.

"Briony?" Brazill asked with a hint of impatience in her tone.

"Huh – oh, yes, the report." Smiling sheepishly, Briony shuffled her papers. "I was here finishing the categorizing of the Creevey file when a large owl came shooting in with yet another sighting, or so I thought. It was a rather insistent owl and wouldn't leave until I opened the letter." She spoke in a monotone, as though she'd already said the same thing a dozen times. She shuffled frantically through her papers, looking for one that she couldn't seem to find.

Briony was an obsessively organized person. This behaviour was most unlike her.

"It was right here," she said to herself, shuffling through more papers.

"Don't worry about it. We can discuss the observation when everyone else gets here," Brazill replied.

This didn't appease Briony. Having ravaged her papers thoroughly, Briony made a hasty announcement that she'd be back and all but ran from the room.

"What's up with her?" Harry asked, grabbing the papers and starting to sort through them.

"She claims overwork," Brazill said, "but we've heard that one before, haven't we?"

"Yeah." Was this the catchall phrase that women used to avoid the truth? He looked down at the papers and saw an unfurled piece of parchment that had not come from his department. He read it quickly, taking in the information that there had been some strange things happening somewhere in Leeds. The reported sightings were consistent with how Colin would have died.

"I think its legitimate," Brazill said before Harry could ask. "We're just waiting for everyone else and then we're going to go – what's that?"

In the papers Briony had left was another report from the Department of Mysteries. Harry had been trying to slip it in among the other papers. He didn't feel much like answering questions about it.

"Extracurricular project, I think," he said as Brazill reached out for the report. He'd kept to his word not to say anything to anyone about what Briony was doing, but he wasn't going to lie about it.

"What is Briony Wright doing with a report like this?" Brazill asked, sounding angry. How much of her anger was directed at the report versus Briony wasn't immediately apparent. She scanned further down the report, her lips thinning and her grip so tight the parchment was crinkling under her fingers.

"Listen to this," she said. " . . . _Research indicates that the substance can be useful in the darkest magic. Our findings confirmed that the substances have no greater effect in necromancy rituals than other experiments attempted to date . . ._ Can you believe this? One of our own damned departments is researching dark magic.'

Harry snapped his head up. This wasn't the first time someone had brought up resurrecting the dead recently. Had Ron actually been right about what Bellatrix and Lucius were up to? He started to tell Brazill but Briony returned with Schultz and Kitson. He started again but decided to wait until everyone was there.

Once the last person, Tougas, had arrived and been updated on why they had been called in so suddenly, Brazill turned the floor over to Harry.

"I don't know if I'm right or not, but this report –" he held it up, noticing Briony turn even paler than she already was, " – talks about the use of the fear substance in necromancy. It says their attempts yielded negative results, but Bellatrix Lestrange is unbalanced enough to try and resurrect Voldemort, isn't she?"

Murmurs went around the table. Everyone looked like they at least thought this a plausible idea. The only one who wasn't reacting to Harry's speech was the one he was sure would reject it out of hand. Tougas's whole attention was focused on Briony and he was frowning. She was completely ignoring him. The only thing that held Briony's attention was the report.

"We can rest assured that her plan won't come to fruition," Schultz said. "There's no spell that can –"

"That doesn't mean she won't keep trying though," Brazill said. "Which makes her more dangerous. It means that we have to capture them or no Muggle-born will ever be safe."

"Why Muggle-borns?" Dawlish asked. It was a question that had been asked infinite times. "It can't be a matter of simple prejudice. There has to be another reason why they're targeted. Does that report say anything else, Potter?"

"Er . . . " Harry looked to Brazill.

"They did say that fear isn't a substance that's readily available in the human body. It has to be produced based on a fearful stimulus. It would be a fairly safe assumption that Muggle-borns have more to fear from a Death Eater than everyone else," Brazill replied.

"Those smarmy bastards never mentioned anything to me about this research when I was down there," Schultz said.

"They _are_ Unspeakables." This came from Briony. This was one of the few times she had ever spoke up in a meeting and certainly the first time she'd ever been anything but timid. Harry suspected it was one of the first times she'd ever used this tone outside of her family, judging by Tougas's reaction.

"What's up with you?" he asked Briony.

"A good question, but more importantly, how do you think this new information relates to your theory about Potter's involvement?" Dawlish asked.

Tougas tore his eyes away from Briony and moved from Dawlish to Harry and back. He had none of his usual angry reaction, which made Harry suspect that he hadn't been listening.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," he said after a few seconds. Dawlish wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"But do you still think he's connected to the case though?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Any theories pop into your head? I don't think the fear one applies to Potter."

One of Tougas's usual sneers made its appearance but he still said nothing.

"Get back to us as soon as you can. In the meantime let's go have a look at this building from that letter."

Harry had a strange sense of déjà vu. The area they appeared in looked very like the one he and Tougas had spent three weeks at back in January. Did Death Eaters have an affinity for waterfront locales?

As stealthily as they could the seven Aurors approached the building. It was unspoken but they all hoped that not only would they find Colin or Justin, but also maybe some luck would come their way and they would find Malfoy and Lestrange.

Once they were near enough to have a good chance of foiling any escape plans that might be hatched by their suspects they opened the door. The minute it opened they were met with an unneeded rush of heat and a strong fetid smell that caused them all to stumble back, coughing and covering their mouths.

"That's not a false lead," Brazill said, turning away and trying to breathe so she didn't get sick. Harry was doing the same thing. He was immensely thankful that Ginny hadn't cooked dinner before he left.

None of them were anxious to enter a building that smelled so foul at the entrance. Harry had a sudden thought though. He used his wand to cast the Bubble-head charm. Seeing what he had done the others quickly followed suit.

"Good thinking, Potter," Brazill said, looking a little less green.

They reluctantly entered a warehouse piled high with boxes of all shapes and sizes. The seven of them split into two groups, Harry with Tougas and Brazill. They stayed together, but each peered around different sides of the large boxes forming labyrinthine passages. After about ten minutes they knew they were getting close to their query, not because they were being inundated by the foul stench, but because of the increase in flies.

Harry rounded a corner of boxes and saw a wide clearing bathed in a sickly green light. He knew at once what he would find but looked up anyway. He wasn't shocked when an emerald green serpent hovered in midair.

"Here," he called to Tougas and Brazill, slowly advancing on the clearing, directing his wand at the large shadow below the Dark Mark. It looked very much like it could be bodies piled on a funeral pyre.

"Damn it," Tougas said, pushing past Harry and getting to the clearing first, with Harry and Brazill approaching cautiously, looking for evidence.

"Looks like the case of the Missing Muggle-borns has been solved," Tougas said. "Creevey and Finch-Fletchley are here for sure. And if I'm not much mistaken we have the Thompsons and Greer as well."

Harry and Brazill moved closer. The topmost body was unmistakably Colin. He had on the same shirt as the last time they'd seen him in life, the same tattered Harpies jersey that he'd also had on in the photos. There was also a tuft of straw-coloured hair, but beyond that the body was unrecognizable. His skin was bloated in certain areas and sunken and leathery in others.

Harry looked away quickly, swallowing hard. He absent-mindedly reached up to brush away what he thought was a bead of sweat that had landed in his eye and was causing it to sting but realized he couldn't because of the charm.

Harry had to force himself to look back at the bodies. Three of the four were only skeletons. The last one piled just below Colin's body was only partially skeletonized. The teeth were fully exposed, but that was about all Harry was able to determine before he had to look away again.

"How d'you know its them for sure?" he asked, wanting to rub his stinging eye but not daring to remove the charm for even a second.

Tougas turned to look at him.

"We don't know for sure, but it would be a hell of a coincidence for Creevey to be found with anyone else, don't you think? Or do you suspect that there are scores of missing Muggle-borns?"

"Of course not."

"Your scars bleeding again, Potter," Brazill advised.

"Is it?" Harry reached up for a second time before he again remembered that he could not touch his scar. Tougas, who had just leaned over the bodies to get a closer look, straightened up and scrutinized Harry.

"Get out. Go deal with that bleeding." He pointed in the direction they had just come from.

"I'm fine. I can deal with this," Harry said firmly. He didn't want to be here, but he'd dealt with far worse in his life than a little bit of blood. He wasn't going to let that drive him away.

"It wasn't a request."

Harry debated arguing but knew it wouldn't do any good, not with Tougas. He turned and left, thinking of several nasty things he would love to say to his supervisor.

At the entrance he met up with Schultz.

"The place is clean. There's no one else here. What'd you –" She stopped talking when she zeroed in on Harry's scar.

"We found what appears to be all five of the missing Muggle-borns," Harry told her to avoid answering questions about his scar. "I'd say they need help."

Harry stepped outside, not allowing Schultz to say anything else. Once he was a safe distance from the building he removed the Bubble-head charm. He breathed the night air but he could still smell death and decay. It seemed to have seeped into his very pores. Wrinkling his nose he rubbed his scar to confirm that it was bleeding again. When he looked at his fingers they were smeared with blood. His scar seemed to be bleeding worse than it had the previous two times he'd been around when the Dark Mark was cast.

From his previous experiences, Harry knew the only thing that caused his scar to stop bleeding was time so he leaned against a pile of wood and waited for it to cease, or everyone to come out. He tried to think of something other than the image that had been seared into his mind of those five corpses but his thoughts were not cooperating.

His scar had almost stopped bleeding when the others came out. Half an hour after Tougas kicked Harry out the six Aurors made their way out levitating the pyre and bodies, intact, between them.

"We're going to examine this back at the office under better conditions," Dawlish explained. "I don't know what's happened to the Muggles who use this facility, but we can't risk them returning."

The hour was late but in their line o work it didn't matter. Dawlish called in one of the Ministry's experts on experimental charms. They didn't have much more than theories at this point. If there was anything that they could detect in the way of evidence for those theories they were going to take it. This use of fear was new and thus they had no information as to how it was detected, whether in a living person or a dead one.

The woman, a willowy, middle-aged witch was not impressed with the state of the bodies.

"In these advanced states of decomposition there won't be anything to find. Very rarely does magic store itself in the bones. With the other two . . . " she grimaced. "Too much has already been lost. The odds of finding anything that would be of use to you is so small that it's hardly worth the time."

"I'll decide what's worth the time. I'd like you to get straight to work please. How long do you expect this will take?"

"An hour for preliminary work. I'll let you know after that," she said shortly; keen to get them out of her way.

"We'll be back then."

Dawlish led the team to the briefing room.

"Something's been bothering me," Brazill said before they were all seated. "Malfoy and Lestrange have been so careful for so long, yet now we're getting more and more information about their whereabouts and their activities."

"They want us to know," Tougas stated. Everyone looked at him like he was crazy. "They're getting cocky because we haven't caught them. They want to rub it in our faces . . . Or they're doing this to distract us from their real purpose."

"Hermione," Harry said at once, sitting up in his chair.

Not everyone had such a visceral reaction but Dawlish had spent several months protecting Hermione. He didn't question Harry but was on his feet in a heartbeat. Harry was next to jump up and was shortly followed by everyone else.

As they sped down the corridor to the safe Apparition area the witch who had been examining the five bodies reappeared.

"Ah, good," she said in an annoyed voice. "Your bodies contain no physical indications as to the cause of death, none non-magical either which –"

"Yes, thank you. We'll talk another time," Dawlish replied as he raced past. The woman gave an exasperated sigh and stepped out of the corridor.

They dispensed with avoiding Moody's precautionary spells and Apparated just outside Ron and Hermione's. All the lights were on, in the house but outside all was quiet. There did not seem to be Death Eaters lurking which meant they had got lucky, but that luck would likely not last.

Harry took only enough time to send up his patronus before he gave the house and garden a good inspection.

"What do you mean by it?" Moody yelled, barging out of his tent as quickly as he could.

"Malfoy and Lestrange," Harry said before anyone else. He quickly told Moody what they suspected. Before he finished, Moody was packing his tent. By the time Harry stopped talking he had it all packed away in a rucksack.

"We're moving her tonight, forcefully if we have to," he stated. "C'mon, Potter. The rest of you – maintain a patrol."

Moody rapped on the door.

"Good thinking, coming here straightaway. Impeccable instincts."

"Thanks," Harry couldn't say more. Such blatant praise from Moody was a rare thing indeed.

"You do what's necessary to protect people. That's what makes a great Auror. Keep the personal feelings out of it."

"Yeah." Harry didn't want to tell Moody that almost every decision he'd made since joining the task force had been motivated by personal feelings. He studied the door, willing it to swing open

"Don't you ever visit during normal hours?" Ron asked when he opened the door a moment later. The joke died on his lips when he saw the serious expressions on their faces. He looked past them and caught a glimpse of the six other Aurors. "They're coming?"

"Yes," Harry said, deciding to save the details for when they were safe.

Ron nodded and turned, leading Harry and Moody into the sitting room where Harry was startled to see Hermione sitting with Ginny. They were both pouring over wedding plans.

"Who was at the – Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up. Ginny turned to face him. She must have read something in his expression because she was on her feet in an instant, dragging Hermione with her. The neatly organized wedding plans fell to the floor.

"Ginny what are you doing?" Hermione demanded, trying to wrench her grip free, but Ginny held tight.

"We'll talk later, but we've got to get you out of here. Come on."

Ron added his assistance by grabbing Hermione's other hand. Harry followed behind while Moody took up the front guard.

Everything was still quiet when they stepped outside.

"Good, they're not here. Let's get you to Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "Here."

He handed Hermione the Invisibility Cloak. She started to protest but seeing that she was outnumbered ten to one she sighed and threw it on.

"This thing stinks," she said. "Where were you?"

"Later." Harry ran around, telling the other Aurors where they were going. He stopped at Ginny last. "I know you probably want to come too but Gin I really need you to –"

She put a finger on his lips to silence him.

"I'll go home. I'll see you later." She gave him a peck on the cheek, wrinkling her nose. "You stink, too."

"Yeah." Harry was distracted by the way she was looking at him. She didn't just look worried she looked genuinely scared. This strong a reaction was unusual for Ginny, regardless of the situation. Harry was momentarily delayed by it.

"Be careful," she said at last, leaning up and giving him one more kiss before she disappeared into the house. At first Harry thought she forgot something but it was still quiet enough for him to hear the whoosh of the Floo network. It was odd for Ginny to go use the fireplace when she could have just Apparated. Harry assumed that she must have wanted to get home quickly. He put that out of his mind and turned to the task at hand.

"OK. We're going to Grimmauld Place. You're coming with me, Hermione, and Ron's going to go with Moody. The others are leaving just ahead of us to make sure there's protection. D'you have your wand with you?"

"Yes," Hermione said, from his right.

"Keep it at the ready. Hopefully you won't need it. Grab my arm." Harry put his own hand over Hermione's to make sure she didn't let go. "One . . . Two . . . Three . . . "

They got away without incident and were greeted with the usual foul smell when they appeared on the stoop of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. After the other odors he'd experienced that evening this stench was nothing.

Harry looked around, counting heads. Eight. He saw Moody at the head of a V formation, telling Ron to get to the house. The others were holding their wands in front of them, scanning the area for any signs of movement.

"See," Hermione said angrily, beginning to shrug the cloak off. Harry stopped her. She growled. "You dragged me all the way here and there's nothing. Harry I think you're getting as bad as Mood –"

A blinding green flash lit the whole square.

"Get down," Harry yelled. He grabbed what he thought was Hermione's sleeve but turned out to be only the cloak. It fell off and exposed her head. Cursing, Harry grabbed her arm and yanked her down beside him. "I want you to get in the house and stay there. Don't come out under any circumstances."

"OK," she said weakly. "Where's Ron? We'll go in together."

"He was with Moody," Harry said, moving out of his crouching position so he could get a better idea of his surroundings. His colleagues were searching for the source of the spell but they kept glancing back to one spot. Harry looked there as well.

There were two shapes lying on the ground, perfectly still. One was clearly Moody, who was identified because his cloak was drawn up, exposing his wooden leg. The second was even more easily distinguishable because of his flaming red hair.

Harry felt like he'd been hit in the chest with a Bludger. Without knowing what he was doing, he regained his full height and stepped off the stoop. A total silence settled over him. As though he was looking through a tunnel the only thing he could see was Ron's motionless form on the ground.

"Harry?" Hermione called, sounding much farther away than she was.

"Go inside, Hermione," he said, not turning to look at her. He took a few more steps.

A jet of red light came out of nowhere. It was only at the last second that Harry saw it and ducked.

Sound came rushing back with a vengeance. He fired his own stunner in the direction where the one aimed at him had come from and quickly reassessed the situation.

The V-shape that the task force had formed to protect Hermione had disappeared. Everyone had scattered to find cover. Spells were volleying back and forth in rapid succession but it was hard to tell how many people were on either side. In the middle of the chaos lay the two bodies: Ron and Moody. Harry saw a Death Eater emerging from the darkness and head toward the two bodies.

"Ron, no," Hermione cried loud enough for a brief five second pause in spell casting. Brazill and Schultz emerged from the shadows of the house and set themselves up in front of her. After glancing briefly back, Harry started to creep towards the two bodies, staying away from the light as much as he could. He wanted to overtake the approaching Death Eater.

As he raised his wand to cast a stunning spell two-dozen dark shapes emerged from across the square and quickly blocked the approaching Death Eater from Harry. This was matched by the Aurors who ran out, spells flying and hid Harry from view.

Both Harry and the Death Eater's approaches were impeded as sets of duelers crossed their paths, preventing either of them from jinxing each other. The Death Eater had the cleaner path though and was making up distance far quicker than Harry was. He was mere feet from Ron and Moody.

Forgetting any stealth Harry stopped ducking and once more. He ran full out, dodging around Tougas, who was busy trying to stun three Death Eaters, around Dawlish who was conjuring ropes to wrap around an already stunned Death Eater while ducking a barrage of spells aimed at him, and past Brazill who was narrowly avoiding stunners of her own.

Harry made it to Ron and Moody at the same time as the Death Eater. He raised his wand to stun at the same time that his counterpart pointed his wand at Ron.

"Ava –"

"Stupefy," Harry yelled. His spell missed but a second jet of red light caught the Death eater around the knees and he toppled over backwards.

Ron jumped to his feet.

"Take that, you bastard," he said.

Before Harry had a chance to absorb that Ron was not only alive, but also perfectly fine and great at playing dead, a second jet of green light flew from the other side of the fence that led out of the square. It sailed over all the duelers and hit a tree nearby which burst into flames.

"Go to Hermione and get her into the house. Hurry," Harry told Ron, looking in the direction the most recent killing curse had come from. For the briefest second he thought he saw a flash of blonde hair – Lucius Malfoy?

"Got it." Ron bent down and grabbed Moody's arm. There wasn't time to be careful; he dragged him as quickly as he could through and around the duelers.

"Potter, watch out," Dawlish called.

Harry jumped out of the way as two jets of red light flew at him. The two spells ricocheted off each other. One spell hit a Death Eater and the other hit Brazill who fell to the ground, hard.

A shrill cackle sounded in the darkness and a second later it's owner showed herself – Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Stupefy," Harry yelled.

She parried the spell and shot her own stunner at Tougas. He blocked it In the nick of time.

Harry once more ran through the group of duelers, stunning and disarming as he went. Nearing the house again he saw Hermione still struggling with the door. Ron had just arrived and was rushing to help her. Harry could see Tougas's current position lined up perfectly with Hermione. If Bellatrix could get him out of the way she would have perfect access to Hermione.

"Get back to the house," Harry yelled to the others. "Protect the stoop."

They closed ranks, trying to form a half circle around Ron and Hermione but they were outnumbered two to one. They could little afford the time it took to drag their colleagues out of harm's way. The Death Eaters were taking full advantage of their weakness.

Malfoy and Lestrange weren't hiding in the shadows anymore. They were in the fray, dueling whoever came across their path. Harry was fighting to keep the Death Eaters as far back as possible. As soon as Ron and Hermione were in the house, it was over. They could all Disapparate knowing that Hermione would be safe.

"I can't get it open," Hermione called frantically.

"It's stuck," Ron shouted, too.

Sparing glances between spell casting, Harry saw that the others were as desperate as he was to get Ron and Hermione into the house. He racked his brains for something that would help and finally came up with a plan.

"Kreacher," he called.

The house-elf appeared in the midst of the battle.

"Master call –"

"Get Ron and Hermione into the house," Harry shouted, ducking what looked like a gouging hex. "Now, Kreacher."

The elf dithered for a moment too long.

In the fraction of time that Kreacher used to give Harry his usual scathing look Bellatrix cast a spell that froze him in place.

"Take the elf," she yelled at the nearest Death Eater, who snatched Kreacher up before Harry could grab him, and Disapparated. Bellatrix smiled triumphantly and entered the battle with renewed vigor. She was not interested in playing anymore; she wanted Hermione.

The Death Eaters had advanced so much that the remaining Aurors were battling right against the stoop. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw that Ron was still trying to force the door open while Hermione provided what cover she could. It didn't matter now. With Kreacher in Malfoy and Lestrange's custody they couldn't safely stay at the house.

"Forget it," Harry yelled to Ron. Then he tried to battle over to Dawlish who was still standing but it was hard to tell for how long. "We've got to go."

Hyde screamed in pain, clutching her side and fell to the ground. Kitson moved in to resume her battle with the Death Eater that had injured her but his own battle wasn't over. Within seconds he was down too, not only leaving four Aurors to battle fifteen Death Eaters, but also causing a gap leading right to Hermione.

"Get her," Bellatrix shrieked, running at full speed.

Before the words left her lips half a dozen spells flew at Hermione.

"Protego," Harry yelled. Hermione had already sent off her own spell though, catching one Death Eater unaware and he fell. Another took his place at once.

"Get her," Bellatrix cried again, drawing out her words. She was mere feet away. Harry could almost see the victory in her eyes. He ran to step in her path but Tougas beat him to it and immediately started forcing Bellatrix away from the house.

"Harry, look out."

He hadn't been paying attention to where he was as he ran at Bellatrix. Now he found himself standing before a group of three Death Eaters.

"Stupefy," he muttered under his breath, and thankfully caught one with his spell. The other two both raised their wands and prepared to cast spells.

"Stupefy," two voices called from behind Harry and the other two Death Eaters crumpled.

There wasn't time to thank Ron or Hermione because the last dozen black-robed figures were approaching headed by Malfoy, who was heading straight for Hermione like Bellatrix had done, but from the other direction. She, Harry and Schultz tried to stun Malfoy but he had a dedicated guard to protect him.

"Take out the Death Eaters," Harry called and started shooting spells at the three figures following Malfoy. They were good at evading spells though and had gained ten feet before Schultz succeeded in stunning one of them.

With less than twenty feet separating them from Harry, Dawlish, Schultz, Ron and Hermione, Lucius and Bellatrix united. The Death Eaters scattered to provide cover.

"Give up the Mudblood," Bellatrix called, casting a spell that sent Tougas reeling back into Dawlish, almost knocking both of them over. "We will have her, whether we have to kill you all or not."

"Don't call her that," Ron shouted angrily and shot a spell at Bellatrix that she deflected easily.

The third flash of bright green light flew as both Bellatrix and Lucius fired the killing curse at Ron. It missed by a narrow margin.

In the split second it took for Ron to duck, dragging down Hermione, she managed to get off a stunner, which connected with Lucius and he fell over.

"Nice one, Granger," Schultz called, using the distraction to stun five waiting Death Eaters.

Bellatrix laughed. She attempted once more to make headway, but with no results.

"The Mudblood may be safe _now_, but she should _fear_ the future." She cackled maniacally and turned to Harry. "Our triumphs can be our defeats if we're not careful, Potter."

Quicker than should have been possible, she grabbed Lucius and Disapparated.


	17. In The Wake Of The Duel

Bellatrix Lestrange's sudden escape could not have been part of the original plan because the few remaining Death Eaters looked at each other in confusion, allowing the three remaining Aurors to place an Anti-Disapparition jinx around the lot. As it turned out only the Death Eater who had snatched Kreacher escaped, apart from Bellatrix and Lucius.

"How dare she?" Hermione asked loudly. She looked from Ron to Harry and then to each of the Aurors in turn looking indignant. No one answered the question so Hermione was forced to repeat it, sounding even angrier than before. "How dare she?"

Having secured the prisoners Harry, Dawlish and Schultz now turned to their fallen comrades. While Dawlish roused Kitson, Harry saw to Brazill. She seemed a little dazed, which was unsurprising given how hard she had hit her head when she fell.

"They didn't get her, did they?" she asked after a second, looking around frantically.

"No. Hermione's safe."

"Oh. Good." Brazill sat on the stoop and leaned back against the door of number twelve.

Kitson, who had also been stunned, came to join her while Dawlish and Tougas were up and moving around. They were bending over Hyde who had sustained the worst injuries. Harry watched them as he slowly made is way over to Moody's immobile form. He took his time, feeling that he was putting off something inevitable. Several times each of the eight conscious people had found their gaze drifting over to the battle-scarred Auror, but they would quickly look away as though he was afflicted with some gross deformity.

When Harry could put it off no further he tentatively reached out and shook Moody, hoping that what they were all thinking was wrong. With this slight touch Moody's head, which had been lolling on his shoulder, fell back and revealed their worst fear.

"How's he doing?" Dawlish asked.

"He's dead," Harry said blandly, not looking away from those blank eyes. Even after he said it, he had a small hope he was wrong, that he was seeing things. Any minute now Moody was going to jump up and start yelling at them for standing about.

No matter how long Harry stood there though Moody remained motionless. Even his magical eye, constantly surveying his surroundings, was perfectly still. He could feel people standing all around him but Harry didn't look at anyone or acknowledge the murmurs.

How? This was the question everyone was asking. How could Mad-Eye Moody, one of the most cautious people in the entire world, be dead? It didn't make sense. Wasn't the mantra of constant vigilance supposed to prevent this sort of thing?

A loud bang made Harry finally look away from Moody's blank stare.

"We got the door open," Ron said, taking a step back when six wands were pointed at him. When Harry looked round he saw Hermione standing on the threshold, keeping the door open.

"Let's get everyone in. We can work from in there now." Slowly, everyone followed Dawlish's instructions, supporting colleagues as they entered. Hyde was still unconscious and was carried in before Moody.

Harry and Brazill remained outside while Tougas and Dawlish carried Hyde into the house, supervised by Kitson. Harry was not going to leave even the slightest chance that something else would happen to Moody. Ron took over Hermione's job as doorman, ensuring Dawlish and Tougas easy entry into the house. Hermione, meanwhile, was already inside setting up a spot where they could place Moody and Hyde.

At last Dawlish reappeared. Without more than a quick glance to make sure they were thinking the same thing, he put his hands under Moody's arms while Harry grabbed his legs. They carefully maneuvered their way into the house and down the narrow hall into the drawing room. Hermione, who was leaning over Hyde's unconscious form, looked up.

"You can set him down there," she said with a sniffle, pointing to the second sofa. She followed their progress, turning back to Hyde only when Moody had been safely placed on the sofa.

Dawlish stood by Moody's head, Harry at his feet. Everyone else gathered around and stared in silence. Harry was sure they were thinking what he was: there had to be some loophole, some extraordinary way that Moody would prove them wrong. He couldn't actually be dead.

Reality prevented them from saying this out loud though and slowly an expression crossed each of their faces. They had accepted that their leader, the man who was an indefatigable mentor and wealth of knowledge, was gone.

"I can't believe it. I just can't . . . " Schultz said, shattering the total silence. Her words echoed the sentiment of everyone.

Hermione was silently casting spells behind them, trying to stem Hyde's bleeding. The only other movement in the room came from Dawlish, who reached down to close Moody's still open eyes. This made it appear as though he was sleeping, though Harry doubted such a peaceful expression had ever crossed Moody's face in life.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Hermione said after a few more minutes had passed, "but I've done all I can. She needs to see a healer."

Hyde's skin was an ashy grey colour and she looked like she might already be beyond their aid.

"I've got her," Kitson stated. He had been hovering between the two sofas. Gently as he could he lifted her into his arms and left the room, followed by Ron. A minute later they heard the door open and close. The house was so quiet they even heard the chains clinking into place as Ron reengaged the locks.

"We've . . . er . . . " Dawlish started hoarsely, turning back to Moody when they heard Ron's footsteps in the hall. He cleared his throat and started again. "We've got to alert Minister Shacklebolt of this. Not only have our suspects escaped again, we've now lost our head of department. Moody was also a great friend to the Minister. I'll alert him. Excuse me."

Dawlish's words had barely escaped his lips when he was out the door too, leaving Harry, Tougas, Brazill and Schultz standing around their deceased leader. Ron and Hermione replaced Dawlish and Kitson, staring down in disbelief.

"I think he was hit by two killing curses," Ron said slowly and uncertainly, putting his arm around Hermione. "I think they meant to get us both. They came on so suddenly . . . and he wasn't able to move quick enough to avoid it."

Ron and Hermione retreated to the other sofa and sat together.

"I can't believe this," Brazill said, echoing Schultz. "This has to be some kind of sick joke."

"It had to happen some time," Tougas stated gruffly. "But I suppose we shouldn't have left him in the lead. His reflexes have been going."

No comment was made out loud, but Harry knew that Brazill and Schultz were as unappreciative of Tougas's comments as he was. It might be true that Moody was getting on in years, but there were very few people who had ever escaped a killing curse. This had less to do with age than it did with the psychosis that Bellatrix Lestrange was suffering from. He opened his mouth to say this but closed it again. Now was not the time to get into an argument with Tougas, there would be time for that later.

"At least we got them here though," Schultz said after a time, nodding at Ron and Hermione and putting her arm around Brazill's shaking shoulders. "They'll be safe."

"They can't stay here," Harry stated, knowing that these words were not going to be met with enthusiasm after everything they had gone through to get here.

"What?" Brazill snapped, looking at Harry with red-rimmed eyes. The anger in her voice was precisely what he had expected. "You're the one who suggested we bring them here in the first place."

"They took the house-elf," Tougas answered, looking at Harry, who could only nod. He hadn't realized Tougas saw that, or that he understood the implications. "Even now they could be using him to Apparate in here."

"They got Kreacher? When?" Ron asked.

"I called him to help get you two into the house," Harry said, swallowing the guilty feeling that had been building up since he'd discovered the truth about Moody. "He was in the middle of doing it when Bellatrix Lestrange stunned him and had one of the Death Eaters grab him and Disapparate."

"Just call him back," Hermione told him, her head resting on Ron's shoulder. "The magic that binds a house-elf to their master trumps everything. Regardless of what enchantments they have him under he will be able to come back."

Without question Harry did as she suggested at once. Loathsome toe rag or not, he wasn't going to leave Kreacher in the custody of Bellatrix Lestrange any longer than necessary. She might have been decent to him once, but pleasantness was not a part of her make-up. If Kreacher didn't do as she asked, violence would likely ensue.

No crack sounded to announce Kreacher's return.

"Kreacher," Harry called again, louder this time, but with the same result. He looked at Hermione. "Could she be blocking the return somehow?"

"That's not possible. She might be able to latch onto him, like Side-Along Apparition, but she can't stop him coming back. The only way he couldn't return is if he's . . . dead."

"Its been twenty minutes," Tougas spoke up. "She can't have done it already."

"She could do it in two seconds," Brazill replied, waving her hand at Moody's body.

Harry stepped away from the sofa for the first time and instead moved to the window where he stared down into the dark empty square. He tried and failed to prevent the image of Kreacher's old, frail form peering atop the pyramid of bodies he'd seen tonight.

A loud crack made him turn around, a sense of relief and dread rising up into his throat. Harry raised his wand, expecting Kreacher to be standing there, his shape almost indistinct between Malfoy and Lestrange.

No such sight presented itself. Instead he watched as Kingsley, led by Dawlish, rushed over to the sofa and stopped abruptly when his eyes fell on the second sofa.

Moody had been the most senior member of the Auror department. Dawlish and Kingsley, the next highest in tenure, had trained under Moody before he left the department. He'd taught them a lot, including how to keep a cool head in all situations. They'd been at the job a long time and had seen things Harry didn't even want to contemplate. It was, therefore, all the more shocking when Kingsley dropped to his knees in front of the sofa. Tougas, Schultz and Brazill took a few steps back out of respect.

Harry, still standing by the window, watched without saying a word though he could feel the weight of his own grief and guilt matched in Kingsley.

"I never should have asked him to come back," Kingsley said eventually, regaining his feet. "He was brilliant, but not in any condition for dueling."

"He would have been involved one way or another, Kingsley. You know he wouldn't have sat idly by and let all of this happen." Hermione had got up from the sofa and come over to offer him comfort. She put her hand on his arm as she spoke. Kingsley looked down at her for a second after which she removed her hand.

"What went on here?" Kingsley asked, looking from Hermione to Dawlish, to Tougas, Schultz, Brazill and finally at Harry. "How did this happen? How did you all end up here?"

"Its my fault," Harry stated and proceeded to recount everything that had happened that evening. He kept it as matter-of-fact as possible, knowing that Ron and Hermione didn't need to hear the gruesome details of what they'd found at that building in Leeds.

"They were waiting for you?" Kingsley's gaze swept around the group of Aurors again. He received nods from all five. "And there were at least two-dozen? You're sure of that?"

"As sure as we can be," Dawlish replied.

"Its astounding you aren't all dead." Kingsley's comment needed no reaction. He looked at Moody again.

"They only shot three – no, four killing curses during the whole battle," Hermione said. Harry, still standing apart from the group, saw her reach for Ron's hand, almost aggressively. She was shaking now. Ron put his arm around her.

Harry turned back to look out into the dark square below. It really was astounding to think that Death Eaters who used the Avada Kedavra curse wantonly had used so few in such an advantageous situation.

"I don't think their initial intent was to kill," Harry said, just coming to this conclusion. Everyone turned to look at him. "They wanted to capture Hermione, not kill her. If there were too many killing curses flying around one might have hit her accidentally."

"They probably would have done us after," Schultz stated, with none of her usual sardonic attitude.

It was a grim thought, how lucky they were to be standing here at all. Not that they should be lolling about Grimmauld Place anyway. Even if Hermione was right and Kreacher had become the evening's seventh victim, he had been one of the Order's secret keepers. He could have been forced into revealing the house's location. A battalion of Death Eaters could already be massing.

"We can't stay here," he said for the second time that evening. "They got Kreacher, Kingsley."

This prompted another explanation, but it was much shorter than Harry thought it would be. Before he had got much beyond his worry about the house-elf, Kingsley put up his hand.

"I understand." He turned to address Ron, Hermione and the other Aurors. "This was the best option for Order headquarters during the last war with Voldemort. We each became secret keepers once Dumbledore died. Any one of us could have been captured and tortured into revealing the location. We put a lot of trust in Severus Snape who, as you all know, was double dealing with the Order and the Death Eaters, not to reveal the location of the house. It was risky then, one that I am not willing to take again. We'll have to move Miss Granger."

"Can we go home then?" Hermione asked hopefully but without any real conviction.

"No. We'll . . . go to the Burrow." Ron looked around, pleading for support. Harry had his doubts about the idea. The Burrow was no safer than Ron and Hermione's house in Hogsmeade. "It's the perfect place, really. There are loads of people going in and out all the time. It'll be easy to set up a constant guard."

"But it puts your whole family in danger," Hermione said. "We can't –"

"_Our_ family were all in the Order," Ron interrupted. "Danger isn't really a new thing for them. They will do whatever it takes to make sure you are safe."

Much as he would have loved to keep the Weasleys out of it, Harry had to side with Ron. The house, though much emptier now nearly all the Weasley children had moved out, was still the hub of family gatherings. Molly and Arthur rarely had a single day when none of their children dropped by. Harry was sure that, given the circumstances, everyone would pile back into the house at a moment's notice.

"Does anyone have any objections to this?" Kingsley asked, looking particularly at Harry who shook his head. "I don't either. Until we can think of a better plan this is what we'll do. I want extra security set up around that house and I want two of you – yes, _two_ – to be stationed there at all times. Dawlish, Tougas, are you up for it?"

"Yes," Dawlish said.

"Yes, sir." Tougas forced the words out.

"Good. Mr. Weasley, you go and alert Arthur and Molly of the plan. Tell them to get as many of your family members there as possible. Dawlish and Tougas are coming with you to start on the protective spells. Use the Floo network, I want you out of sight."

No one questioned Kingsley's orders. After Ron and Hermione said a quick, but no less worrisome, goodbye he left, flanked by Dawlish and Tougas.

"No offense, Potter, but I want senior personnel on this."

Harry shrugged. Kingsley didn't owe him any explanations, but he appreciated it nonetheless. With a quick acknowledging head nod, Kingsley turned once more to look at Moody. With his head down, Kingsley conjured a stretcher. Harry moved forward to help lift Moody's body on, but Kingsley levitated him instead. He carefully placed Moody's arms over his chest, entwining his fingers.

"Here." Hermione handed Kingsley Moody's wand. "Ron grabbed it when he dragged Moody to the house. He gave it to me when we were fighting to get the door open."

"Thank you." Kingsley placed the wand in Moody's clasped hands. "I'm going to take him back to the Ministry. For all the service and sacrifice, Alastor Moody deserves to be buried with honors."

The five people remaining in the sitting room bowed their heads as the stretcher slowly floated into the hall. Kingsley, Schultz and Brazill followed it. Harry did not, nor did Hermione. She was weeping softly. Harry was torn between wanting to comfort her but not knowing how, and wanting to kick something. Neither would undo anything that had happened this night though so he instead turned to look out the window again. He was suddenly impatient to get out of this, the house of the dead.

"We're to wait here," Brazill said, returning to the room a moment later. "The Minister reminded us not to leave the house until Dawlish and Tougas return." She gave Hermione the same apologetic look she'd used with Ginny earlier. She looked around for a place to sit, for a moment considering the sofa where Moody had lain. In the end she decided to sit beside Hermione and watched the spot where Moody had so recently been as though she could still see him there. Harry half expected to turn and see Moody there as well. At last he couldn't take waiting.

"Let's go down to the kitchen. The fireplace is there anyway," he said.

The kitchen was clean compared to the rest of the house. Kreacher, when left to his own devices, had kept this one room in better condition than the rest.

Unable to sit, Harry paced the room, ignoring the trivial conversation Hermione and Brazill were engaged in. It wasn't until he heard Brazill call his name that Harry heard anything but his own thoughts.

"What?" he asked.

"I asked if you wanted to tell us what that serious conversation you were having with your girl was about." Both she and Hermione were watching him expectantly. It took Harry a minute to recall what she was talking about.

"No," he said, wishing that Ginny was at Grimmauld Place now..

Brazill and Hermione looked disappointed. They exchanged looks that betrayed their suspicions. Harry could see they were both in agreement about whatever they thought Ginny was going to say. With many looks at him they reconvened their conversation, quieter than before. He didn't care to hear whatever theories they had come with.

Ron arrived by himself ten minutes later.

"We're all set. Hermione and I are going to Floo back and Dawlish said for you two to come right away."

Harry wasn't upset at leaving number twelve, Grimmauld Place behind. He welcomed the overly warm and bustling activity at the Burrow as he stepped out of the fireplace, the last to arrive.

Molly, busy cooking as usual, stopped what she was doing and rushed over to hug Harry.

"Thank you. We were so worried when Ron showed up and told us what happened. He explained what you and the other Aurors did. If anything had happened . . . especially now, so close to the wedding . . . "

Harry saw Ron and Hermione sitting close together at the back of the table, not at all involved in the loud, heated, discussion going on around them. Arthur, Fred, George and Percy were arguing about the case and the possible motives of Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy. Arthur was still in his pajamas.

"The others are on their way," Molly said, seeing where Harry was looking. "Bill and Fleur were getting the twins prepared. Charlie had to wait for a portkey and can't make it –"

"Is Ginny upstairs then?" Harry interrupted.

"Ginny? No. She's not here. She told me that she was going to stay at your flat."

Harry felt the same sense of alarm he saw echoed in Molly's eyes. Ginny told him she was going home. Home meant the Burrow, didn't it? Muttering a hasty goodbye, Harry headed for the fireplace again.

The flat was eerily quiet when he entered. Not stopping to brush the soot off he quickly made his way to the bedroom where he saw her sleeping soundly.

As his heart rate returned to normal, Harry watched her for a few minutes, dearly wanting to do nothing but climb in next to her. He held back though, knowing that immediately upon waking he'd have to tell her about Colin, about Moody and about Kreacher.

Harry opted to instead deal with his concerns by washing them away. He stood under the hot water for a lot of time, feeling only moderately better. He'd resolved only one thing during his shower: he wasn't going to wake Ginny up to give her such horrible news. He would let her get a good night's sleep. Nothing would change in the light of day.

Ginny was leaning on the doorframe of the bedroom when Harry stepped into the hall. He stopped and watched her, while she was doing the same across the hall. Her hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders; spilling over the two-piece set of dark green satin pajamas she wore to stay cool in the sweltering July heat.

"Hi," she said, straightening up.

It was a simple greeting and all Harry needed to cross the few feet that separated them and pull her into his arms. She didn't object, nor did she flood him with questions.

Eventually, after what simultaneously felt like an eternity and the blink of an eye, she let go.

"Harry, you're trembling. What happened?" She looked at him, searching for answers. He knew her immediate worry would be for the safety of Ron or Hermione.

"Things didn't go as planned," he admitted. "They knew we were coming and – Ron and Hermione are fine, they're at the Burrow . . . but, Gin, Moody's dead." He had to swallow several times to get these words out.

"What?"

Haltingly he told her what happened after they left Ron and Hermione's, knowing he was revealing way too much, but not caring.

"This is why they tell us not to get personally involve," he said more to himself than to Ginny.

"It couldn't be helped, Harry," she said gently. "You've known Moody for eight years. No matter what the case was you couldn't be expected not to react."

Harry said nothing. He'd caught a lock of her hair and was twisting it round his finger.

"Come on." Ginny took his hand and Harry let himself be led into the bedroom.

All the lights were out a moment later and Harry lay propped up in bed, staring down at Ginny. She was watching him too.

For as long as he cared to remember, Ginny had been the one he had turned to for comfort. It had been the case after Dumbledore died, during the last months when they were hunting Horcruxes and especially after Voldemort's death. If she hadn't been around he couldn't imagine how he would have handled that. It was only during the months after everything was finished with Voldemort that he truly came to realize what Ginny had done for him. It was then that he started thinking about wanting to make their relationship more permanent.

Something clicked in Harry's mind just then.

"You told me you were going home."

"I did," she said.

"But you came here."

"I did," she said again, interlacing her fingers with his and placing it on her stomach.

"You've never called this home before." He moved so he was hovering over her.

"It wasn't my home before, but I think things have changed . . . if you're agreeable to it, of course." She smiled nervously.

"Of course." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.

They'd been back and forth on the subject of Ginny moving in. Though he had wanted her to live with him permanently for some time now, the last few times they'd talked about it, one or other of them did not feel comfortable. The last time they'd talked about it, in fact, Harry rather suspected that the only reason she'd agreed was out of some sort of desperation he didn't understand. This time was different though.

Harry leaned down and kissed her. He'd meant it to be a quick peck but Ginny tangled her hands in his hair.

"Don't," she said when he started to pull away.

"Gin –"

"Don't think," she said again, kissing him a second time. It wasn't a hard request to comply with.

He had no idea what time it was when he'd got home but Harry saw it was starting to get light out. He had an arm around Ginny, who was snuggled close to him. He didn't mind, despite the heat. It felt like he had to keep her within his grasp or she'd turn out to be a figment of his imagination. He was beginning to realize that anywhere Ginny was is where he felt most at home.

As the last tendrils of consciousness started to slip away Harry thought he heard Ginny mumble, "Happy Birthday."

They were awoken several hours later by a shrill screech. Harry's eyes immediately snapped open as he groped for his wand.

"Hedwig?" Ginny asked, lifting her head from Harry's shoulder. "Since when does she deliver right into the bedr – oh no."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling both irritated and annoyed at this alarming wake-up.

Ginny didn't answer. She reached over and grabbed a bright red envelope from Hedwig's beak.

"Plug your ears," she advised before opening the Howler. Molly Weasley's voice echoed off the walls, making Harry cringe. He hoped their silencing charms were holding.

"I DON'T KNOW WHICH OF YOU PUT THEM UP TO IT, BUT YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES. HOW DO YOU THINK WE REACTED TO FIND THEIR BEDS EMPTY THIS MORNING AFTER EVERYTHING WE WENT THROUGH LAST NIGHT? THAT'S NOT TO MENTION THE TIME AND EFFORT WASTED. TWO WEEKS BEFORE THE WEDDING! HOW COULD YOU LET THEM RUN OFF TWO WEEKS BEFORE? . . . COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE - LETTING THEM ELOPE. IF RON AND HERMIONE WEREN'T ALREADY MARRIED I'D HAVE THEM REMOVE YOU FROM THE WEDDING PARTY."

Harry wished he'd taken Ginny's advice and plugged his ears. They were ringing so loud he didn't hear Ginny's words.

"What?"

"I said 'Merlin, I'm glad I'm not Ron today,'" she repeated louder than before, reaching over to Hedwig and grabbing a second letter. "Its from Ron and Hermione."

Harry grabbed his glasses and he and Ginny read the letter together. Hermione wrote it, but her usually neat scrawl was more jittery than usual.

Dear Harry and Ginny,

If someone asks you where Ron and I are, don't be alarmed, we're off somewhere safe. We decided last night that we don't want to wait to be married anymore. After what happened with Moody we realized that two weeks could be too late, you never know what could happen.

Harry, don't worry, we've taken Dawlish and Tougas with us, and we're very safe.

We'll see you this afternoon.

Love from Hermione and Ron.

"That makes three reasons to celebrate today then," Ginny said. "Your birthday, their wedding, and us . . . I dunno, did you want to tell everyone about us?"

"You moving in? Of course."

Harry checked with work later in the morning. Speaking with Briony he learned that no new leads had come in. All was quiet, she said. Kingsley, acting as de facto head of the department for a few days, told her that unless they stumbled on something huge, all the members of the task force were to take a few days off.

The reminder of Moody's death put a damper on what otherwise would have been a great day. Harry tried not to think of it just as he was sure Ginny was trying to avoid thinking of Colin. She hadn't made any mention of him since Harry told her they'd found all five missing Muggle-borns. Instead they spent a quiet day talking about how they were going to break the news that Ginny was officially living with Harry now. They didn't want to face a ribbing like Ron and Hermione had at Christmas.

"When I tell Dudley he's got to move into Grimmauld Place at least he'll be happy that Kreacher's not there," Harry said eventually.

Kreacher's death was hard to deal with. Harry wasn't unaffected by the house-elf's murder, but he mainly felt disgust that Bellatrix had disposed of him in such a heartless manner. He was sure Kreacher was gone. He'd tried a couple of times to call the elf with no change.

"About that," Ginny said slowly. "Maybe . . . "

"After everything he's been doing lately I don't think it's a good idea he stays here anymore Gin. You're not going to change my mind on that."

"Nor would I want to. No, I was just thinking that maybe he was doing some of this stuff to get your attention. He's got those two girls he keeps going on about, right? And he spends nearly every minute with them. Perhaps I've been overly sensitive about most of it."

Harry stared at her, dumbfounded.

"I still wouldn't trust him farther than I could throw him," she continued, "but maybe if we spend more time with him it'll help."

"Whatever you say." Harry looked back at Dudley's bedroom. The door was standing ajar. "Looks like he wasn't here last night."

* * *

They arrived at the Burrow promptly at four o'clock, unsure of what to expect. The news of Moody's death had been on the front page of The Daily Prophet that morning. Everyone who was going to be at the Burrow had known and respected Moody. Surely they would be as affected by his demise as Harry was.

Their arrival coincided with a shouting match. Apparently Molly was even angrier with Ron and Hermione than Harry and Ginny.

" . . . Completely irresponsible Ronald Bilius Weasley," she shouted from inside the house. "What do you think we went through when we found you two gone, without a note?"

Ron must have responded but they could not hear what he said.

"Obviously you didn't think. How do you –"

"A reenactment. Lovely," Ginny stated. She looked at the house appraisingly. "Let's just wait until she's calmed down a little, shall we?"

There was noise coming from the back garden. When Harry and Ginny made their way around the house they were met with a mass of redheads surrounding Lupin and Tonks, who was holding a small bundle of blankets in her arms. They were smiling brightly, and both looked up at the same time.

"Harry," Lupin called, coming over quickly. He threw one arm around Harry's shoulders and one arm around Ginny's, rushing them over. "Harry, meet your godson, Teddy."

Harry looked inside the blankets and laid eyes on the tiniest human being he'd ever seen, with a thin tuft of bright blue hair. The baby's eyes were squeezed shut and he was opening and closing his mouth.

"D'you want to hold him?" Lupin asked, already taking the baby from a reluctant Tonks.

"Me . . . oh . . . I dunno." The baby was cute and all but Harry wasn't sure he was ready to hold him yet. What if he dropped him?

"Go on," Ginny said encouragingly. She kept her hand on his elbow as Lupin showed Harry how to hold his arms. "You've got to support the head."

With the small bundle in his arms Harry didn't even want to breathe, let alone move. Tonks, he saw, looked as nervous as he was. Every time the baby fussed she bobbed up and stopped chewing her nails.

"He's adorable," Ginny told Tonks, who beamed. She moved the blanket aside a little and felt his hair. When she looked up at Harry she was smiling and there was a faint glow about her that he'd never seen before.

"Hey, birthday boy!"

Harry wasn't sure if it was Fred or George who called. He and Ginny both turned and were instantly rewarded with a blinding flash.

The culprit was Fred. He lowered the camera as he approached.

"Here." Tonks took the opportunity to take the baby from Harry.

"Hmmmm . . . wonder how many galleons the Prophet would give me for this picture," Fred said, waving the camera around.

"Business has been a little slower since Hogwarts let out for the summer," George supplied, appearing out of nowhere and draping an arm around Harry's shoulder. He smiled brightly when Ginny punched him in the arm. "Better mind what you do with our sister, Potter."

"Fred, George, leave him alone," Molly said, coming from the house with a feast's worth of dishes following her. She looked flushed. Closely behind her, carrying a large cake were Ron and Hermione. "Happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks, Mrs. – Molly."

Fred and George did leave Harry alone. They focused their mild teasing on Ron and Hermione.

"Explain to me again, dear brother, why you would run off and saddle yourself with a wife before you had to? No offense, Granger, or is it Weasley now?" George asked.

Hermione blushed, but was beaming.

"Shove off," Ron said.

Despite Fred and George's best efforts to change it, the mood was indeed subdued. Wherever he went Harry heard serious conversations about Moody: recollections and anecdotes about Moody's more memorable eccentricities. He felt a little twinge of guilt every time he came across one of these speeches. Ginny, who was sticking very close to Harry, would steer him away if she thought he was getting too quiet.

It was only as they sat down to eat Molly's delicious meal that Ginny spoke up.

"Did I tell you that I'm going to move into Harry's?"

The remarkable thing about her announcement was how utterly unremarkable the response was. Everyone looked at her as if she was stating the obvious.

"Aren't you already doing that?" George asked.

"Of course not," she replied.

Fred leaned back in his chair and shook the camera, a broad smile on his face.

"I give it a year before he's holding a little redhead."


	18. Crack & Bang

A new urgency had been brought to the task force with Moody's death. Suddenly it was not business as usual anymore. Though it had never been fun and games, investigating and attempting to track down Lestrange and Malfoy, their actions had goaded every Auror on the task force, and many who were not, into redoubling their efforts. This desire to capture those responsible for Moody's death became all the more apparent two days after the duel when a huge assembly of people crowded into the atrium at the Ministry to say goodbye.

Harry and all the Aurors were seated in the first few rows for the funeral. They were also the first to leave. Everyone including Tougas and Dawlish had ignored Kingsley's demand to take the two days off and were anxious to get back to work. Harry wanted to discuss Bellatrix Lestrange's words with them. He'd been turning those words over in his head and was sure there was actual meaning behind them that currently escaped him.

Hermione and Ron had come into the Ministry for the funeral and also so she could get some things from her office, affording the opportunity for Dawlish and Tougas to attend their first meeting in a few days.

"We need to make this even more of a priority," Dawlish said unnecessarily. "Therefore I propose we divvy up the work more evenly. Tougas and I are going to be on guard duty for who knows how long so we'll have time to look over our files, perhaps come across patterns or hidden information we missed the last ten times we went over everything. We'll work in conjunction with Briony, who will remain here. If we find anything we'll let her know and she can pass it on to you."

Briony, who had been sitting with her head down, looking like she was ready to drop from exhaustion, looked up. She opened and closed her mouth several times before speaking.

"Thank you," she said finally. It looked like there was a lot more she wanted to say but couldn't, or wouldn't.

Dawlish nodded before turning back to the room at large.

"It looks like Hyde will be out of commission for some time so we'll do our best without her. Kitson, I'd like you to keep up the interviews. Brazill, Schultz and Potter I want you out in the field. We need to go back to all the places we've been. Potter, I'd like you to do the aerial work. This means you'll all have to work at night."

"OK," Harry said. He wasn't sure what Dawlish hoped to find by doing surveillance from the air. It wasn't like the Death Eaters had a rooftop marquee that gave away their location.

They started that very night. Dawlish told them to take a more thorough look around Leeds, the last and most recent place they'd found anything. When they had been there several days before they had concerned themselves mainly with the building, missing any potential evidence that might be in the surrounding area.

As he flew over the area immediately surrounding the building looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, Harry couldn't help thinking that they were wasting time, him most especially. From so high up in the air the only good he could do them would be to spot a glaring abnormality. Anything on that large a scale would surely have caught the attention of a Muggle and the Aurors would already know about it.

The night was dark and the stars veiled, making his work that much harder. More than once Harry found he was drifting off course. One time he'd gone so far that it took him a full ten minutes to find his way back. Brazill and Schultz were not impressed with this, particularly because their success rate matched Harry's.

"I really don't think this was their base of operation. I think they just looked at a map and picked this place at random," Brazill said as they all prepared to leave at the first appearance of light.

This sentiment was repeated in dozens of locations over the next seven days. By the seventh night Harry, Brazill and Schultz were completely devoid of any hope. They stood around talking for ten minutes before they set to work and when they did it was with less enthusiasm than previous investigations. Harry flew a safe distance above the buildings so as to be out of the light of the streetlamps, thankful it was cloudy again. He flew at a leisurely pace, keeping an eye out for anything that seemed out of place, but he was thinking about what he was going to get Ginny for her rapidly approaching birthday. It had to be something good, he owed her that for having to work so much lately.

It was precisely because of this lack of concentration that he nearly fell off his broom when a loud crack echoed from a short distance away.

Swearing under his breath, Harry righted himself on his Firebolt and took off in the direction of the noise. It could have been nothing, a car backfiring, or it could have been the sound of someone Apparating.

Brazill and Schultz had heard the noise as well. As Harry flew over alleys and streets, he saw them running in the same general direction. He wondered if they knew anything more, but didn't dare check with them because it might give away their presence

Nearly a minute after the loud crack had roused him, Harry flew over what he thought was yet another dark, empty alley. At the last second, just before he passed over the building that would block the alley from his view, he caught a glimpse of what could have been a Muggle firework, but Harry knew to be wand sparks. He landed on the roof of the building and crept to the edge, wanting to get a closer look.

The alley contained no lights and the persistent cloud cover didn't help visibility. The tiny beam of light coming from one of the wands revealed only the barest of details: there was more than one person, in fact, Harry could make out three people for sure. He was also confident that he saw a fourth diminutive figure, but the lighting prevented him from confirming his suspicions. He briefly saw a flash of what looked like glass in the wand light as it was handed from one of the four to another. It could have been a phial, or a number of other things, Harry couldn't be sure. One thing that he was less doubtful of was that this had to be the same four people Hera Crane had spotted.

Feeling ecstatic and triumphant, Harry stepped back from the edge of the roof and mounted his Firebolt to set off in search of Brazill and Schultz. If he was right maybe they could apprehend Lestrange and Malfoy tonight. Harry found them three alleys away. He landed and hastily explained what he saw and seconds later they were hurrying quietly as they could to the important alley.

Harry barely had time to worry that they might already be too late when they were peering around the corner of a brick building. The four figures stood near the end of the dark alley, but they were much easier to see from the ground.

"We'll stun on three," Schultz said quietly. She raised three fingers and lowered each in turn. When the last was down she pointed in the alley and mouthed 'now.'

"Stupefy," they said quietly, intent on not making their presence known until absolutely necessary.

Harry watched in shock as all three stunners bounced off an invisible shield. They had to duck around the corner to avoid the spells.

Preparing for a second attempt, Harry looked around the corner. Two of the people had their hoods up, but the other two were easily identified as Malfoy and Lestrange. They grabbed the larger of the two figures and Disapparated. The smaller figure was trying to follow suit but stumbled a few times.

"Don't let 'em get away," Brazill cried. She and Schultz were already casting Anti-Disapparition jinxes, which seemed to be traveling down the alley at one-tenth the speed they should have. The cloaked figure squirmed more anxiously. Only at the very last second did they twist and disappear.

Harry took a few hurried steps down the alley as though it would answer the question he had. He was sure that he had seen a swatch of pink under that cloak. There was only one person who whose wardrobe consisted of only pink: Umbridge.

Harry said nothing, but Brazill and Schultz were cursing over yet another escape.

"What is it?" Brazill asked, meeting Harry halfway down the alley. He told her what he was thinking, along with the information that Umbridge had been known to deal with Malfoy.

"Why would she be meeting with Death Eaters?" Schultz asked. Brazill remained quiet but she looked like she thought Harry had a point.

Harry said nothing but he had a thought. It seemed impossible to think that Umbridge could hold onto a grudge that long, but she had been the one to say Harry would never be an Auror. Could this have anything to do with that? If they were pursuing leads that connected him to Malfoy and Lestrange, Umbridge would be one of them. She was still high up in the Ministry, could she be laying hands on the task force's reports and relaying them directly to the two senior Death Eaters?

"It's a good question," Brazill said, her jaw fixed. Harry thought there wasn't anyone who could have possibly hated Umbridge more than he did, but he'd apparently been wrong. She clearly didn't like the woman either. Harry felt an immediately surge of affection for her. "I wouldn't doubt that she's helping them. The pure-bloods have to stick together, you know."

"I'd be careful, Pam," Schultz advised, a warning in her voice. "Umbridge still has a lot of clout. She'd have Phoebe from you in a minute, you know."

"Let her try," Brazill said sharply.

"Phoebe?" Harry asked, trying to understand Brazill's sudden sense of anger.

"My daughter," Brazill said through clenched teeth. He still didn't understand why Umbridge would want Brazill's daughter, but he thought he could see why she didn't like the woman.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Schultz said. "I seriously doubt they're coming back."

The office was completely deserted at the late hour. Not even Briony was there. Schultz led them into the briefing room, pulling out parchment and slamming it down on the table.

"Let's get this report written. I'll drop it off with Dawlish and Tougas before we go home." Schultz said.

"Why don't you just go home, Rania?" Brazill asked. "We'll finish up here."

Schultz didn't look as grateful as she should have. She agreed to go, but kept looking back at them.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked as soon as the door had closed behind Schultz.

"She doesn't think my dislike of Delores Umbridge is healthy," Brazill answered, not looking up from the parchment.

"Umbridge is toxic."

Harry leaned back in his chair for a minute. He'd grown to like Schultz, but he wondered if he might need to reconsider. Anyone who had sympathy for Umbridge was probably not someone he would have much in common with after all.

As they worked, Harry once again found his thoughts returning to the evening's events. He began to consider whether Schultz might be their leak. He had to discount that straightaway. If he was going to question Schultz's loyalty based on her connection to that evil woman, then he would have to consider Briony too and he knew she had nothing to do with her aunt.

"Hey, Potter, where are you?" Brazill asked wearily.

"Huh?" Harry looked up. He saw that she was staring at his report. He'd stopped writing and was doodling on the corner of his parchment. He scratched that out. "Sorry. I was wondering why Schultz is championing Umbridge, and why she jumped down your throat tonight when you have the more sensible attitude."

Brazill sighed and put her quill down.

"Schultz's attitude has less to do with Umbridge than it seems. She thinks that I have a personal vendetta against that woman. In a way I guess I do."

Harry said nothing. Brazill looked like she was steeling herself to say something important but difficult. He wanted to tell her to forget it, remembering how hard Ginny's recollection had been, but another part of him wanted to know.

"I'm going to tell you this in the interest of full-disclosure. I don't want you to think I'm hiding anything, but I'd prefer if you don't tell anyone, including your girl, all right?"

"Of course," Harry said at once.

"Umbridge is responsible for my husband's death," Brazill stated coldly. "Thanks to her continued association with Malfoy, the Death Eaters got information they shouldn't have. They captured Cullum – that's my husband – and killed him."

"If that's the case why hasn't she been arrested?" Harry asked, straining his brain to recall any mention of this in the reports he'd read.

"Not enough evidence. Because of her position in the Ministry I was strongly cautioned not to push it. Some think it's a crackpot theory."

"I'm sorry." He meant it mainly as an apology for her loss, but Harry could tell accepted it for both statements. "How long ago did this happen?"

"It'll be five years in September. If only that evil bitch could have kept her mouth shut he would still be alive." She spat the words out. "But she's not happy with that, Potter, oh no. When I started questioning her, she played dirty. She started making a fuss about Phoebe, about how that poor little girl needed a proper home! Her official line was that I worked too much to properly take care of her, but I know better.

"Cullum was pure-blood, I am Muggle-born. She never said as much, but I know that's the crux of her problem. She can't stand half-breeds, right? Apparently that extends to people as well."

Harry wanted to say something, to offer words of comfort, but none came to him. Instead he felt an overwhelming anger and desire to take down Umbridge for what she had been getting away with. He was sure she was the one meeting with Malfoy and Lestrange – probably to reveal Hermione's location, or other illegally obtained information.

"We need to question her first thing," he said. "If she's been meeting with Death eaters she's probably the leak. We can't let her get away with it anymore. You can stay away, that way she can't do anything to your daughter."

Brazill smiled weakly and squeezed Harry's hand.

"She's still a high ranking official so we've got to do our homework. I swear though. If she is still meeting with Death Eaters, we'll find out and then we'll have her. C'mon, let's get this done."

They worked for a few more minutes before Harry, who had been casting more glances at Brazill than was usual, spoke up.

"You've got a ten year old daughter?"

"Yes, why?"

"Nothing. I just . . . you'd have been my age." The thought had been turning over in his head, for a few minutes. The idea of having kids now was incredible. "That was brave of you."

"Yeah, well . . . " Brazill smiled, a glint in her eyes. "Sometimes plans don't always work out the way we want them to."

She wouldn't explain that mysterious grin, insisting they needed to finish their report if they had any chance of leaving that day. It was already daybreak.

"We're almost done here. Why don't you go and I'll run this over to Dawlish," he said. Upon discovering that Harry was serious, Brazill fixed him with such an unabashed appreciation that Harry had to look away. He kept his head down as she called out her goodbye, glad that he was able to cheer her up.

It was fully light out and sweltering when Harry made his way into the flat. He expected Ginny to be up, preparing breakfast, or unpacking one of the boxes she'd brought over in the last few days. What he did not expect was to see her sitting on the sofa with Dudley, sipping tea and chatting amiably.

"What's going on here?" he asked, allowing the door to slam shut. Dudley immediately looked down, his teacup a little unsteady in his hand.

"You're a little later than I thought," Ginny said, getting up immediately and coming over. She gave him a quick kiss. Dudley kept his head down, but his attempts at covert glances were all too obvious. Harry thought he saw a smirk play across his cousin's face, but a second later it was gone.

"Well, I've got some packing to do, tomorrow being moving day and all." Dudley drained his tea and stood up. "I'll see you two later."

"Seven sharp," Ginny stated happily.

"What's at seven?" Harry asked, the minute Dudley's door closed.

"Dinner," she replied, picking up the cups and taking them to the sink. "I figured since it is his last night here, maybe the three of us could have one last meal. What do you think?"

Harry scratched the back of his head, contemplating her words. It hadn't seemed like that long ago that she was all but demanding Dudley get out Now she wanted to have a farewell dinner? Something definitely didn't tally.

"What was that little scene about?" he asked, choosing not to answer her just yet." "I thought you couldn't stand the very sight of Dudley, but I find you two having an intimate conversation."

"It was hardly intimate," Ginny said shortly. "But you're right. It was the weirdest thing. I was up early – because of the - heat, when he strolled in, swaggered is more the term, really. I thought for sure he was going to start up with something so I grabbed my wand, but I didn't need it. He apologized for what he's been like lately. I know what you're thinking –" she said quickly when Harry started to interrupt "- but I'm sure it was genuine. Then we got to talking about you, about what he wants to do with his life, how he's liked living here, but he's happy to move out to give us the place."

"What a load of rubbish." Harry rolled his eyes. "Did he jinx you, Gin? Maybe slip something into your tea when you weren't looking?"

"He wouldn't dare try to pull that with me." She was wearing her annoyed expression again.

"I hope you're right, Gin. I want to believe he's changed too, but certain things haven't . . . I dunno if we can fully trust him yet."

"We've only got another twenty-four hours and then he's gone. I'm not going to rush off and start telling him intimate secrets, but I think I'm capable of handling him, Harry. You're here almost all that time anyway – assuming you don't have to work _again_."

Harry was immensely thankful he'd called on Dobby to help with the clean up of Grimmauld Place. Dobby had brought Winky with him. They'd only been at it a week and had almost the entire house spotless. Dobby and Winky's service was well worth the five galleons Harry had forced them into taking (he had to work hard at this, wanting to avoid the wrath of Hermione). Their hard work allowed for Dudley to move days, if not weeks, earlier than he would have otherwise. Like he had said to Ginny, Harry wanted to believe that his cousin had changed but he was having a hard time believing it when Dudley was acting the way he was toward Ginny. No, it was best some distance be placed between the three of them.

"Yeah, I guess dinner's fine," he said at last. One more meal with Dudley wouldn't kill any of them.

Ginny looked relieved.

"Good. He's probably still going to go out again right after anyway, which is perfect because I wanted some time alone with you. We have to talk."

"We can talk now."

Ginny considered this for a minute but finally shook her head.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep. This is going to be a long conversation. Rest now and we'll talk later."

It was hard to get used to sleeping during the day no matter how tired he was. This change in sleeping routine combined with record high temperatures, the abundance of noise in the street and the prospect of some unknown important conversation with Ginny, it made it unsurprising that he got only the very lightest of sleep. This was why he heard the fire come to life in the sitting room, Ginny's murmured greeting and then her hurried footsteps.

"Harry," she called quickly. "You have a Floo call."

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, more from lack of sleep then being suddenly awoken. He was already sitting up.

"Nearly noon."

It had barely been three hours since he'd come in and tried to get some sleep, but Harry found himself face to face with an exhausted and panic-stricken Briony.

"What is it?" he asked, shaking off the remainder of sleep at once, and immediately beginning to worry about the safety of the Burrow inhabitants.

"I – I think we've really got them this time, Malfoy and Lestrange, I mean."

"What?" he asked, moving closer to the fire. "Where? When? How?"

"We don't have them in custody, but we've just got a tip but this one looks to be the from the same source as the one that led to the discovery in Leeds. I was just told to get everyone back here as soon as possible. Minister Shacklebolt is on his way to relieve Dawlish and Tougas."

"Right. I'll be there soon."

The sense of excitement that was starting to build at the idea that they would finally capture Malfoy and Lestrange was dashed somewhat when Harry turned his back to the fire and saw the disappointed expression on Ginny's face. When she saw him looking at her she replaced it with a smile, but it was too late.

"I'm so sorry," he said, going over and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I know this ruins your plans."

"Don't worry about it, just go and get those two off the streets. Maybe it won't take as long as you think. We've still got seven hours."

If this only took seven hours it would be a miracle. Harry started to tell Ginny that, but judging from her expression she already knew.

"I'll try to be back on time," he said, knowing he had to make every effort.

Ginny simply nodded, turning her back to him. Harry put his hand on her shoulder for a second and she tilted her head back to look at him. She was still looking disappointed, but resigned. She turned to face him and ran a hand through his hair.

"You'd better get going."

Within a minute Harry was on the verge of leaving but he had to say one more thing to Ginny.

"I'd still be careful of Dudley if I were you. I've just got this feeling that he's not being as honest as I thought he was."

"Don't worry, I can handle him," she replied in an odd tone. Was it anger or annoyance?

With the prospect of apprehending Malfoy and Lestrange on the horizon, Harry should have been happier than he'd been in months. Instead he was dismayed by Ginny's reaction. While he could understand her disappointment, given how little time they'd had together lately, she knew this was not something that he planned on. Was her expression just that of exasperation at always getting interrupted, or was there something more?

Harry had to push all such thoughts away as he stepped off the lifts and onto his floor. The level of activity was higher than he'd ever seen it. People were walking or running around with bright smiles. He had to duck at least two-dozen memos as they rushed into the lift. The atmosphere was such that Harry expected to hear they had already apprehended Malfoy and Lestrange.

"I guess word has spread," Brazill said, coming up behind Harry. She smiled, a little uncomfortably. In the light of day the history she had divulged made their interactions more awkward. For his part, Harry didn't want to say or do anything that would betray her confidence in him. Perhaps she was having doubts about telling him in the first place. She certainly seemed to be watching him a lot more than was normal as they made their way down the corridor.

Briony was sitting in the briefing room wit Tougas. He looked the more troubled of the two and kept a close eye on her as she talked. Whatever she was saying appeared not to be to his liking.

"This is good news," Dawlish said moments later, causing the excited murmurings to die down. "But we can't get ahead of ourselves. We have a tip, not our suspects. Malfoy and Lestrange have slipped by us before, as recently as last night. We need to make sure they can't do it again. As I understand it they are to take up residence as of tomorrow, are they not?" He looked at Briony for confirmation.

"Yes, that is my understanding," she replied.

Tougas's frown deepened.

"I think we're finally getting the upper hand here." Dawlish stated, ignoring Tougas. "Not only have we been forewarned, our suspects are going to take up residence in a building we are already familiar with, a place we just recently discovered has been a Death Eater stronghold for years."

Dawlish tapped his wand on their rarely used projector and an all-too-familiar picture appeared: Yaxley's hiding place in Manchester, the building they'd been watching last January.

"What's that?" Schultz asked.

"Yaxley's last hidey-hole," Tougas said, still watching Briony with what Harry considered too much concern given their current subject matter.

"Manchester?" Brazill looked at Harry for confirmation. "It makes sense why they were there last night then. Probably setting up their security spells."

"I don't like this," Tougas said loudly. "I don't trust this information."

Everyone in the room turned to look at him exasperatedly, none more so than Briony.

"What's your problem now?" she asked. "I've told you already it came in anonymously, but is from the same source that sent in the information about Leeds."

"Who could know their movements that well that they'd be able to give us advanced information?" Tougas challenged.

"Narcissa Malfoy," Harry said at once. He'd been wondering the same thing. A part of him still harbored the idea that Mrs. Malfoy knew exactly what was going on with her husband and her sister.

This suggestion raised debate in the room. Half the people were willing to entertain Harry's idea while the others were not. Eventually Tougas was able to quiet everyone down.

"This information reeks of a setup. We don't know where it came from. For all we know it could be coming right from Malfoy and Lestrange and they're luring us there to pick us off one by one."

The already quiet group stilled even more as though everyone had been stunned. Briony was the one who broke the silence.

"I may not be an Auror, _Bredan_, but I think I can be trusted to know when something is legitimate or not." She didn't look at him as she talked, which might have been a good thing. Right about then it wasn't a wholly impossible prospect that she could scorch with the ferocity of her gaze.

"We have to treat it as relevant anyway," Dawlish interrupted. "We will be there tomorrow morning. Today we will prepare; I don't want any surprises."

Floor plans for that building had been obtained. Harry and Tougas's reports were hauled out and reread. Theories were debated on how best to attack. The benefits versus drawbacks of reinforcements were hashed out – they would have a dozen Aurors on standby, but only use them if needed. Hours after they had arrived, Dawlish waved his wand and erected a scale replica of the Manchester waterfront.

"We can strategize with this. Let me get all the enchantments they are likely to use in place and then we can plan our attack."

"While you do that we're going to break for food," Brazill said. "I'm starving."

Harry checked his watch as they were leaving and swore loudly.

"What?" Brazill asked.

"Nothing. It's just . . . its seven-thirty. Ginny had this dinner thing planned because my cousin – never mind. It's just that I told her I'd be back half an hour ago. I've got to go Floo her."

Harry hurried to the small fireplace the Auror department kept for Floo connections. He was already thinking of what he was going to say and what Ginny's likely reaction would be when she learned he wasn't going to be home again.

"You're late," she said cheerfully. Her face fell when she looked closer at him. "I guess you're not going to make it, huh?"

"No. We've still got loads of work to do. I'm really, really sorry. I'll make it up to you, Gin." He'd been saying that a lot lately and thus was not wholly surprised at her next question.

"When?" She moved a little closer to the fire her expression changing from annoyance to embarassment. "Never mind that question. Just do what you need to do and get back as soon as you can. Wake me if I'm asleep, OK?"

"I will, I'll be back as soon as I can."

Harry leaned against the wall for a minute after breaking the connection with Ginny. His head was spinning, not only from the sensation of Floo travel, but also with thoughts of Ginny and what was going on with her. Physically she was back to her normal self, but she'd taken to behaving very odd lately. One minute she wouldn't leave him alone and the next she almost seemed glad to be rid of him. And why did everyone get an all-knowing look whenever he mentioned her behaviour? They needed to talk, Ginny had the answers and he wanted them, too.

"Your girl doing all right?" Brazill asked, coming by with a coffee in one hand and treacle in the other.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied truthfully, eyeing the treacle and wishing even more that he wasn't stuck here.

Dawlish had the miniature Manchester fully operational when they returned. Harry felt like he was staring at a shrunken city, rather than just a replica. He could see people moving about on the streets, and even saw the very street on which he had apprehended Yaxley. He could see miniature versions of Yaxley and Harry flew into the alley, turned and shot out again.

"I've put all of us in here, plus Lestrange and Malfoy," Dawlish said when they all returned. "Our backups will come on only if called, as in real life. Are you ready?"

They nodded and watched as little mini-duels erupted and spells of varying colours flashed down streets and rebounded from buildings. Dawlish would change up the scenario every few minutes. He said it was to provide them with every possible situation that could present itself. Harry couldn't help feeling this was not as effective as Dawlish wanted it to be. The dozens of tactics they went over started to blur in his mind.

It was nearing midnight when Dawlish, seeing he was losing the attention of everyone in the room, advised all of them to go home and get a few hours sleep.

Harry was the first on his feet, anxious to get back to Ginny.

"Potter, a minute please," Dawlish called. He waited until everyone was gone before he came right out with the reason he'd detained Harry. "After much consideration, and even more nagging by Hermione, we've decided to move Ron and Hermione back to their house in Hogsmeade. Our wards haven't indicated any attempts at breech since the first night.

"They don't want to burden Arthur and Molly anymore and seeing as how we're so close to catching Malfoy and Lestrange to Hermione, we've decided to try a few days – with extra security, of course."

Harry knew Hermione had been making noises about going home but he hadn't been aware they were actually considering it. When he started to protest, Dawlish held up his hand.

"I know your position and in some ways I agree with it, but they've already been moved. Minister Shacklebolt was overseeing the move this afternoon. I suggest you put it out of your mind for now. Go home and get some rest. If our luck holds we won't have anything to worry about after tomorrow."

Reluctantly Harry turned to leave. He walked slowly to the Apparition area, wondering if he should quickly stop by Ron and Hermione's before he went home. He decided against it when he thought about the waiting conversation with Ginny. He was just going to have to trust his colleagues to do their part.

Pubs were starting to eject their more inebriated clientele, several of whom tried to waylay Harry but were too uncoordinated to do much but fall over and laugh loudly and hysterically. They were so loud that Harry could hear them as clearly inside his flat as he had outside. He shook his head as he closed the door.

Ginny wasn't waiting up, but Harry hadn't expected her to. He looked around the sitting room and kitchen. It looked like she might have tried to wait up; the cushions on the sofa were the only bit of disarray in the room. The kitchen was another story. Two plates were laid out, containing what probably amounted to half their original proportions. Two bottles sat there too. One was a bottle of Oak matured mead from the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, the second a Butterbeer.

Harry picked up the Butterbeer, which he guessed had been Ginny's, noticing that the bottle was all sticky, as though she'd spilled it. The table was sticky too, telling him he was probably right. There wasn't anything odd about what he was seeing here, but it gave Harry an uneasy feeling. Dudley was the least likely person to leave food on his plate and Ginny had become obsessive about cleaning since she'd stopped playing Quidditch.

Feeling an unpleasant prickling on the back of his neck, Harry replaced the Butterbeer bottle and instead closed his fingers around his wand. He slowly crept towards the bedrooms sure he was going to find them empty.

The door to his and Ginny's room was ajar. Harry pushed it open revealing an empty bed. Knowing that there was no point, he quickly scanned the room to satisfy himself that it was indeed empty. Ginny wasn't hiding from him in the bedroom, if she was hiding at all.

Harry crossed the hall and repeated the same procedure with the loo. She wasn't there either.

A banging noise from Dudley's room made him turn to the closed door. This, too, was out of the ordinary. Dudley never left his door closed when he went out.

Not sure he wanted to see what was on the other side, Harry slowly turned the knob and the door swung inward, revealing Dudley in bed with someone.

Harry quickly turned his head, sure that he was going to go blind at the sight but something caught his eye. The figure beneath Dudley moved and Harry did a double take before freezing mid-step.

Ginny?


	19. Breaking Point

There had to be some sort of a mistake. He could not really be seeing what he thought he was; some sort of trickery was going on here – it had to be. Ginny wouldn't do this. Hadn't she said before that she could never do something like this, least of all with Dudley?

But she was. Harry was looking at the evidence right now. He'd seen that look on her face before – it was so distinctly Ginny that he knew it couldn't be anyone else.

He could hear the ticking of the clock and new he had to do something: confront them or leave, but Harry felt like his feet had been glued to the floor. He would look away only to automatically turn his head back and stare at Ginny, his Ginny, in bed with his cousin!

With a sudden spasm he reached out and closed the door, but could still see the image of Ginny and Dudley as if there was no barrier between them.

With all the strength he could muster, Harry walked away from the door, intending on sitting down and waiting for them to – but this brought him back to the part of the flat where everything must have been initiated. Unbidden, he started to see how it must have begun: Ginny had been mad that he couldn't make it home. She was probably ranting about how inconsiderate he was. Dudley would have taken the opportunity to enumerate his few appealing qualities. Obviously Ginny was in a state of mind to eat that up just like she'd bought everything else Dudley had said. They'd dipped into the mead. One thing led to another and then they were over on the sofa. He turned from the kitchen to the mussed up cushion.

Harry shook his head, trying to stop the running visualization, but a new image presented itself: a scene in which Ginny was lying on that sofa with Dudley instead of him. She was not only letting him touch her, she was enjoying it. He could hear her saying something she'd said often to him, that they should move somewhere more private. Dudley would have agreed straightaway, of course. Harry was biting his lip so hard he could taste blood.

He didn't remember pulling it out, but suddenly Harry had his wand in his hand and had taken several steps toward Dudley's room when he was again assaulted by this newest image of Ginny: she didn't look like she was being forced into anything. It was quite the contrary, in fact.

This very thought stayed his step and Harry wasted another minute battling with himself over what he wanted to do.

He could see the door opening and Ginny emerging, arm around Dudley, both basking in the afterglow. The thought of seeing them coming out together, and like that, was too much for Harry. He turned and all but ran from the flat, slamming the door behind him and took the stairs two at a time.

It was still warm, even this late at night, but the cloud that had been hanging around all week had finally begun to divest itself of its moisture. Harry welcomed the rain as he set off down the street, unsure of where he was going, only certain that he needed to get as far away from home as he could.

He walked through crowds of people, knocking into some as he went, but not bothering to stop. More than one yelled at him as he passed without offering apologies. The rain quickly intensified, but Harry didn't take much notice. He walked as quickly as he could with his head down and hands in his pockets. He wasn't thinking about anything. He found it best just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Eventually he reached the Thames and couldn't walk anymore. He stared down into the dark river, concentrating on the tapping noise the rain was making. Harry knew he couldn't go home, and he couldn't stay on the street all night, which left few options. In any other circumstance he wouldn't have hesitated to drop by the Burrow, but Molly Weasley didn't know when to leave things alone and he didn't feel like fending off her constant demands for information, let alone consider telling her that her daughter was the reason he was there in the first place. Lupin and Tonks would be more than happy to take him in, but they had a small child now and he didn't want to disturb them. Besides that, Tonks was hardly any better at not asking questions than Molly.

In the end Harry decided to go to Ron and Hermione's. Hopefully they wouldn't ask too many questions.

It was drizzling in Hogsmeade when he made his appearance. After assuring Tougas and Dawlish of who he was (being unable to produce a patronus at present) Harry didn't so much knock on the door as bang on it. He heard a glass break and then the sound of feet hurrying to the door, along with muffled voices.

"It's Harry," he called.

More muffled speech and then the lock clicked and the door opened. Ron and Hermione stood side-by-side, wands held loosely at their sides. Seeing them together made him want to turn and leave.

"Mate, you've really got to choose better time . . . " Ron stated but fell silent.

"Harry, what's happened?" Hermione asked, taking his arm and pulling him in. "It isn't anything to do with _them_ coming here, is it?"

"Or Ginny. They didn't do anything to her?" Ron questioned, looking anxious.

"No," Harry replied shortly. "No, nothing like that. I just . . . sorry to drop in like this but . . . d'you think I could stay here tonight?" He couldn't look at either of them as he asked the question, choosing instead to stare at the puddle he was creating on the floor.

They didn't speak for a minute. Harry was sure they were exchanging a look, wondering what had happened.

"Of course. You're always welcome here, but what's wrong with your flat?" Hermione asked.

Harry forced himself to raise his head but said nothing.

"I think its best we don't ask," Ron said. "Why don't you go make up the spare room?" He gave Hermione a little nudge, but kept his eyes locked with Harry's.

Hermione made a noise like she was going to protest but decided against it. She disappeared up the stairs. Ron continued to watch Harry for a minute before walking over to a cupboard, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. He poured a generous measure into one glass and handed it to Harry. He raised his own glass in a silent toast before downing it. Harry stared at his for a second longer before pouring it down his throat, welcoming the searing and burning sensation.

When the last ounce disappeared, Ron offered a refill but Harry shook his head. Ron took the glass and put it in the sink. That done, he turned and gave Harry a pat on the shoulder wearing an expression saying 'it'll all be OK.' Harry looked away first.

Hermione was back shortly.

"D'you want some tea or something to eat?" she asked.

"No," he replied quietly.

"OK . . . " She and Ron exchanged another look, filled with concern. "Everything's ready then. Come on."

Hermione led him up the stairs and into the tiny bedroom they had set up for guests. It, like Ron and Hermione's own room, offered a view of Hogwarts, barely discernible without the light of the moon.

"I've made everything up for you. Clean sheets and all," Hermione said, somewhat nervously.

"Thanks." Harry tried to smile, but he seemed to have forgotten how.

"What happened to make you come here?" she asked again. "Not that we don't like having you, but . . . "

"Can this wait?" he asked, staring out the window. Hermione came to join him, putting a comforting hand on his back.

"Sure," she said. "You're soaked right through. Maybe I should get you some of Ron's –"

"I'm fine," Harry stated, shrugging her off. Hermione backed away.

"Well at least let me . . . " She pointed her wand at Harry and a stream of hot air issued forth, drying his clothes.

"Thanks." He felt the bottom of his shirt as though it belonged to someone else. He didn't turn from the window to face Hermione.

"You're welcome," she said and he could hear her backing out of the room. "Goodnight, Harry."

After staring out the window for some time Harry made his way over to the bed, knowing he needed to sleep, but doubting it would come. He kicked off his trainers and lay back, fully clothed. He'd been able to keep his mind blank for a while but as soon as he lay back the images started to play again and he couldn't get them to stop, whether he opened or closed his eyes. He couldn't tell te real from the imagined anymore.

Ginny and Dudley in bed together: kissing, touching and . . . other things. He ground his knuckles into his eyes to try and stop it but to no avail.

How could they – how could she? Harry wasn't entirely surprised that Dudley would try something like this, but Ginny? After everything they'd been through? She'd just moved in. Perhaps her reasons weren't what he thought they were. Maybe that hesitation in her voice when she talked about how things had changed had nothing to do with their relationship after all. This big conversation she wanted to have: was it some confession about how she'd been spending her time while he was working?

Swallowing the desire to shout and the urge to break something, Harry got up and started pacing around the room, trying to make sense out of what he had seen, but none came.

* * *

Ginny knew the minute Briony's face appeared in the fire that Harry was yet again going to have to work. She debated about lying and saying that he wasn't there but that would cause more harm than good. She watched as he got ready to leave again, trying to stem the bitter feelings that welled up. She knew he felt guilty but couldn't help it.

Dudley made his appearance four hours after Harry left, when Ginny was busy cooking. He seemed rather happier than he had lately, asking where Harry had gone.

"Work," she said, not looking at him. "He should be back for dinner though."

"Doubt it," Dudley muttered.

"Excuse me?"

He faltered for a second and then smiled again. "He's not been here a lot lately, has he? It doesn't really take a genius to figure out he'll probably miss tonight, too."

There really wasn't any arguing with that, though Ginny would never tell Dudley. This comment though, along with the way he kept looking at her was really making her regret inviting him to stay for dinner.

As seven o'clock approached with no word from Harry, Ginny began to hope that no news was good news. If he wasn't able to make it he would have contacted her beforehand since he hadn't maybe they were rounding up the last Death Eaters. When Harry Flooed she hoped it was to say he was on his way. Instead he was telling her he was going to be late again. Thereafter she didn't have as much enthusiasm for cooking as she'd had all afternoon.

"Where's Harry?" Dudley asked unconvincingly, coming into the kitchen a few minutes after the call. She could already see that he was feeling triumphant over having accurately predicted what would happen.

"Work," she said, laying two plates on the table.

"He's sure been working a lot lately," he said. "Are you sure its actually work and not a ready made excuse. You did say it was that Briony who Flooed, right? D'you think maybe the two of them -"

"Harry wouldn't do that, just like I never would," Ginny stated. She wasn't sure why she added the last part, except that it might come up.

"No, I know you wouldn't. You're too perfect for that. Harry's been taking you for granted a lot lately. If I were him, I'd –"

"Don't start," Ginny said warningly.

Dudley stopped and then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Try," she replied tersely, turning back to the chicken she was coating.

"Sorry," Dudley hovered for a minute. "D'you need a hand with anything? I'm loads better at magic now."

Ginny decided to heed Harry's warning and so accepted Dudley's offer of help only to keep an eye on him. She needn't have worried though, for he was on his best behaviour, laughing and joking with her.

By the time dinner was ready, Ginny was feeling quite relaxed and almost as happy as she would have been if Harry had been there.

"Oh no, the drinks," she said, hastily getting up.

"I've got them." Dudley made quite the production of getting the bottle.

"No alcohol for me," she said when he brought out the mead. He looked slightly disappointed, but instead pulled out a Butterbeer. She'd never been concerned about it before, but now she had to be careful. The Butterbeer didn't look like it had any alcohol though, so she nodded.

Dudley turned his back to her as he searched for a bottle opener, refusing Ginny's offer to open it. Apparently his new magical abilities didn't extend to bottle opening. She watched the empty fireplace while she waited, hoping to see Harry emerge.

"Here."

Ginny took the open bottle and sipped it. She'd been steering clear of anything stronger than Gillywater for months. Butterbeer tasted better than she remembered.

"So," Dudley said, sipping his own goblet of mead. "Harry still hasn't figured out what's wrong with you?"

"He's got other things on his mind," she said defensively, wishing she'd lied when Dudley had asked for confirmation earlier that morning. "Besides, until I tell him, I've decided to think that it's not quite real."

Dudley sipped his mead without saying anything. Ginny took that time to swig some more of her own drink and to eat a mouthful of food. The idea of how Harry was going to react was starting to make her feel a little queasy and she pushed away her plate, taking another swig of her drink, noticing how her hands were shaking. She was really going to do it. She was going to tell Harry about something that was going to change their lives.

Her hands were shaking so bad now that she spilled a good portion of her drink on herself and the table, dropping the bottle right into the pool of Butterbeer.

"Oh no," she said, feeling a little jittery as she raised her wand to clean the mess. It fell out of her hand as well.

"Are you OK?" Dudley asked, watching her with concern as she bent to retrieve her wand.

"Y- yeah. I just think I need to lie down," she said, standing up with heavy support from the table. If the sofa had been any farther away she might not have made it. A leaden feeling was seeping into her limbs and her eyes were closed more often than they were open.

She must have dozed off and slept right through Harry's arrival because the next thing she knew he was leaning over her and asking if she was OK.

"Fine," she said running a hand through his hair. "Just glad you're back."

He smiled broadly at her, and she was sure that meant they'd been successful. She still felt really woozy and so her attempts to sit up failed, but he leaned down and kissed her.

She was surprised he didn't bring up anything about their talk, but he seemed more concerned with kissing her and letting his hands explore her body. It felt weird, like the Butterbeer had affected her nerves or something. Being touched like this usually excited her, but now . . .

"I want you, Ginny," he said, his hand sliding under her shirt. She shivered.

"Not here," she replied. "More private."

He looked confused for a second before he smiled again, picked her up and raced into the bedroom.

Even there she still felt strange. It wasn't a feeling she could pin down, just this time with Harry it was different. She had to close her eyes and look away, thinking about other times they'd been together. She'd never had to do that either. He always insisted she keep her eyes open until the very end.

When it was over he rolled away muttering, 'so bloody good."

She must have misheard though, Harry had never said that in all the times they'd been together.

Still woozy and feeling like her limbs were full of lead, Ginny allowed herself to drift off to sleep. When she woke it was dark and she could hear Harry breathing beside her. She reached out to touch his hair, the best way to wake him by far. It wasn't Harry's messy mop that she felt, but rather short and slick hair. She withdrew her hand quickly and reached over to turn on the lamp, but it wasn't there. She looked around in the pitch dark, trying to find her bearings. She hadn't been that out of it, had she?

A light snapped on and Ginny, after taking a second to adjust, saw she wasn't in her room at all.

"Hi, Ginny." A clammy hand reached out and touched her cheek. Immediately her eyes turned in the direction of the voice and she saw, not Harry, but a naked Dudley. Emitting a soft cry, he scrambled out of his reach and fell out of the bed, only then noting that she, too, was devoid of clothing.

"No," she said softly, shaking her head as she picked up her panties and bra, beginning to suspect what had happened. "No, no, no."

She crouched as low down as she could, hiding her nakedness as she searched for her clothes.

"D'you want a hand?" Dudley asked, leaning on his elbow and watching her with an amused expression.

"Stay the hell away from me," she said, having found her two remaining garments, one of which contained her wand. She kept it trained on him, trying to keep it steady as she bunched her clothes to cover her and backed out of the room.

The bathroom was closer so she locked herself in, dropping her clothes immediately as though they were contaminated. She could hear Dudley moving around in the other room. Once before he'd made it in when she had locked the door. Her hands were shaking so much that it took three attempts to cast the Imperturbable Charm she hoped would keep Dudley out.

She stopped at the mirror and looked at herself. How had this happened? One minute she was with Harry and the next . . . She _had been_ with Harry, hadn't she?

Foggy, disconnected images came back to her and as they did one thing came to her clearly: things had felt different because they were. She couldn't explain how she had been seeing Harry when in reality it was Dudley. She should have known something was wrong, though. It had felt different. And, Harry had never called her Ginny in those intimate moments.

She barely made it to the toilet before the meager dinner she should have shared with Harry came up along with the rest of her stomach contents. It took a long time for Ginny to regain enough breath to sit up. She was sweaty and clammy, yet shivery and worse yet, she couldn't stop seeing those foggy, fragmented images. It was making her skin crawl.

Clutching her wand tightly Ginny turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it and stepped in. She frantically scrubbed herself, hoping that once she was clean it would help get the pictures from her mind, but it did not. Instead, she rubbed her skin raw, which still did not help. The harder she scrubbed the more ingrained everything seemed to be. She only stopped when her skin began to bleed.

Ginny peered around the curtain, her wand at the ready, but the door was still shut. She looked down at the clothes she had dropped on entering. Tentatively she reached out to put them on, but dropped them at once. She stared for a full minute before scooping them up, throwing them into the tub.

"Incendio," she said, watching the flames lick the clothes, wrapping herself in Harry's bathrobe as she did so.

The flames had gone out by the time she had the nerve to step into the hall. With one hand clutching the bathrobe close to her and the other holding so tightly to her wand that her fingers ached, she stepped out. Her senses were heightened as she relinquished her sanctuary.

Dudley's bedroom door was open, the bed empty. Realizing that her back was exposed, she spun around, wand ahead of her.

There was no one there.

Slowly she advanced into the sitting room and found it and the kitchen empty as well, but this is where things had started.

Ginny retreated at once into the bedroom she shared with Harry. She locked the door and placed the same Imperturbable Charm around it. Keeping her wand near her, she curled up into a ball, trying to stop herself from shivering.

The rain was starting to ease now. Ginny looked at the clock.

Three-thirty.

Where was Harry?

She clutched the robe closer to her, shutting her eyes tight. Nothing would be all right until Harry came back safely.

A sudden thought occurred to Ginny. What if Harry had already been back? What if he'd seen something and misunderstood?

"No," she said in a croaky voice, clutching the pillow. It couldn't be. Harry would never believe she'd done this willingly, not after everything they'd been through together.

What if he had though? What if he had seen something, and then run off to do something stupid?


	20. Don't Look Back

Harry stared as the many turrets and towers of Hogwarts came into view, but he didn't really see them, instead lost in thoughts of the night before. The images of Ginny and Dudley had faded somewhat, to be replaced by a sense of unreality.

He'd spent the last hour trying to find an alternate explanation for what he saw. It could have been Polyjuice potion. But why would someone put Ginny in that situation? And even so, Harry was very well acquainted with her expressions to know that the one she had been wearing was not an easy one to fake. He couldn't rule out something like the Imperius Curse, but who would have cast it? Dudley magic might have improved but he wasn't good enough to cast the Unforgivables yet.

When he could take the theorizing no more, Harry grabbed his trainers, tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs. His intent was to leave without disturbing Ron or Hermione but they were both sitting at the table.

"Morning," Hermione said, jumping to her feet, a nervous eagerness to her movements. "D'you want something for breakfast? Coffee? Tea? Toast?"

"I'm fine," Harry replied, sitting down and slipping his shoes on. He kept his head down purposefully, trying to stave off the questions. He attempted a smile, hoping that it would help his situation, but Hermione and Ron both frowned so he looked down again quickly.

Hermione reached out and touched his arm, making Harry stop tying his shoes.

"Did something happen between you and Ginny?"

Just hearing her name made Harry flinch. He tried to cover it up by pulling his arm away from Hermione but he could see she didn't buy it. Quickly as he could he finished with his shoes and stood up.

"Thanks for the house room. I appreciate it." He ignored Hermione's splutters as he left the house. He waved at Dawlish and Tougas who were on the lookout for the two Aurors who were going to take their place in Hogsmeade while they took part in the raid.

It was so early that Harry was the first member of the task force to arrive. He didn't go into the briefing room, instead preferring the much quieter area of his cubicle. The briefing room was situated very near the lifts and the Apparition area, making it a high traffic zone. He regretted his decision almost at once as his eyes landed on the three pictures he'd put up months ago. Even now he could see himself standing away from everyone else in the photos. For the few seconds he could stand to look at her, Harry saw that Ginny was hiding her face. As she should, he thought savagely.

He continued to stare at the photo until he heard someone calling his name. He looked up to see Briony standing before him, looking pale and a little sickly.

"Everyone's waiting," she said, fixing him with an even more concerned look than Hermione had. "Are you OK, Harry?"

"I'm fine," he said yet again, giving the Quidditch photo one last glance. "Let's go."

Harry kept his head up as they entered the briefing room. He sat next to Brazill who frowned as she looked at him. She wasn't afforded an opportunity to ask how he was because Dawlish started talking right away.

"So we know what to do. We'll surround the building. Kitson and Tougas will come in from the roof while the rest of us will take the remaining entrance. We're sure there's just the one apart from the roof, right?"

"Yes," Tougas answered.

"Good. Let's go get those two doxy-brained Death Eaters."

With the sound of scraping chairs everyone stood and began to pile out of the room. Brazill held Harry back.

"You sure you're up to this?" she asked, genuinely concerned. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," he said once more, feeling it was less and less true each time he said it. "Let's just get this over with."

He didn't wait for Brazill, but marched directly to the Apparition area and concentrated on Manchester.

The sun had just crept over the horizon when the six Aurors made their appearance, Tougas and Kitson clutching brooms.

"Right. They've only been here a few hours and are probably still on high alert so we've got to move quick," Dawlish said. "No need for stealth."

They'd landed at the very edge of the protective charms Yaxley had set up. For all they knew Malfoy and Lestrange could have already extended the wards meaning they'd already breeched them, therefore everyone set off at once. Within seconds they were breaking down the door and entering the building. It was another abandoned warehouse. Unlike the building in Leeds, this one was completely empty but for a large tent that had been erected in the centre.

Dawlish mouthed for them to approach quietly. They did, while checking above and behind them for any traps. Nothing and no one jumped out at them. The most exciting thing that happened was Tougas and Kitson busting through the door from the roof. As they made their way down to the ground, Brazill slid into the tent. They held open the flap for her as she quickly checked around the inside of what looked like a luxurious one bedroom flat.

"They're not here," she said in a defeated voice, bending down to pick up a piece of fabric that was lying on the ground. "Look." She emerged from the tent clutching a small black flag bearing the Dark Mark. The emerald skull sparkled maliciously as the serpent spoke.

"Sssssssorry we misssssssed you." It's hiss went on longer than it should have.

"It's new," Brazill said, examining it. "These types of spells don't last more than a few hours."

After all the work, they had put in yesterday they had once again allowed Malfoy and Lestrange to slip by them. Harry watched everyone exchange furious and exhausted looks. He was holding his wand in both hands, trying simultaneously not to break it and to keep his hands busy so he didn't punch something.

"The Minister wanted to know what happened straightaway. Wait here," Dawlish said. He jogged to just outside the door and Disapparated. As soon as he was gone the five remaining people put some distance between the tent and each other. Tougas was pacing back and forth.

"I knew it," he said loudly, his voice echoing in the empty building. "I knew this would get us nowhere. They've been playing us for fools." He kicked one of the tent pegs, which was stuck into the concrete floor.

"I want to know what happened," Schultz said. "No one apart from the six of us knew we were even coming here."

"Seven," Harry corrected flatly. "Briony knew as well."

"Are you saying it's her fault?" Tougas demanded, taking several rapid strides and coming face to face with Harry, who did nothing but glare.

"That's not what he –" Schultz started.

"She's got less to do with this case than you do, Potter."

"You'd say that, even if her guilt was staring you in the face," Harry replied, drawing himself to his full height. He knew he was pushing it, but he didn't care. Tougas had had it in for him for months; they were going to deal with this once and for all.

Tougas had his wand out and cast a spell that sent Harry reeling backwards, landing hard on the concrete floor. He jumped up, already thinking of retaliation. The spell was on the tip of his tongue but shot out of his wand before he uttered it. Sometimes non-verbal spells worked for him, but not often.

Tougas cast a shield charm to block Harry's spell. He tried to conjure ropes but Harry blocked that with his own shield.

"Stop it you two," Brazill called, casting another spell to try and separate them, but they avoided it and continued. Each foiled or blocked spell increased Harry's anger and he could see it was the same with Tougas. They were not always successful though, and they were getting closer together in the hopes of increasing the number of times they could hit each other. Finally, mere inches away, Tougas did the unexpected. He forgot about magic and punched Harry in the face, just missing his glasses. Immediately Harry could feel a bruise forming, and a trickle of blood coming from his nose. He responded in kind, hitting Tougas in the jaw.

All thoughts of magic gone, they attacked each other several more times, struggling out of the hands of those who tried to separate them. Harry knew he must be as covered in cuts and bruises as Tougas, but he didn't care. He channeled his anger into every punch he threw.

Several loud bangs caused them to freeze mid-punch. Two sets of hands seized their opportunity and reached out, pulling Harry and Tougas apart.

"What do you mean by this?" Kingsley yelled, his deep voice bouncing around the building. He came over and started at each of them. Explain to me why I should have to separate two adults so they don't kill each other?"

Harry, breathing hard, said nothing. His only regret was not having hit Tougas harder. His supervisor wasn't saying anything either.

"Let them go," Kingsley ordered Kitson and Brazill. He paced in front of them for a minute before speaking. "You've achieved nothing except getting yourselves written up."

"But –" Tougas started furiously.

"Quiet. You're lucky I don't sack you both straightaway." Kingsley looked from one to the other as though he was trying to make a decision. Finally, he looked at Harry. "I don't want either of you within each other's sight for the rest of the day. Potter, get out of here. Go home. Go to the Ministry. I don't care, just go."

Harry didn't object. Without a backwards glance he walked out of the building. He hesitated for a second, on the verge of going home, when he remembered why he didn't want to go there, so instead he decided to return to the Ministry.

Everything was still eerily silent, like the whole department had decided to take the day off. He marched back to his desk and slumped in the chair, putting his head in his hands, attempting to calm himself down. As had been the case last night, every time he stopped moving that reel of images began to play. Not wanting to relive that nauseating experience, he stood up again, knocking down one of the photos. Bending down to pick it up he found it was the one taken after Ginny's first Quidditch game. He stared at it for a full minute, tracing her photographic hair. An image of that hair spread over Dudley's pillow flashed in front of his eyes. Harry crumpled the picture into a tiny ball and threw it at the rubbish bin. It bounced off and landed under his desk. He left it there, feeling the anger growing inside him again.

Needing some sort of outlet for his anger, Harry kicked his chair, which fell over with a loud bang, and skidded to a halt, three desks away.

"Harry?"

He looked round to see Briony standing at the end of his aisle, looking concerned.

"Are you all right?" she asked, slowly coming nearer.

Harry started to say he was fine, but suddenly he shook his head, leaning against his desk.

"D'you want to talk about it?" She returned his chair and gestured for him to sit. He did, not entirely sure he wanted to say anything to Briony at all. He sat forward in the chair and put his hands on his knees. He kept his head down but watched as she took a chair from another desk and pulled it close. As she did this, Harry ran a hand through his hair, wondering how much he was going to tell her.

"It's Ginny, isn't it?" she asked, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

"Yeah. She –" he stopped, took a deep, steadying breath, and then suddenly found himself confessing the whole story, fighting to keep his voice steady and his breathing even. When he was done she didn't say anything at first, just merely continued rubbing his arm.

"Maybe it wasn't what you thought it was," she said gently. "I mean, maybe it was –"

"I've thought of all that," he replied. "I'm sure it was exactly what it looked like." Though he still kept his head down, Harry looked up at Briony. She was wearing the same expression of shocked disgust that he had felt on first seeing them, and what he felt now every time he got an image of Ginny and Dudley together.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, running her fingers lightly through his hair. Harry returned his attention to the ground as he rubbed his tired and itching eyes.

A soft throat clearing caused Briony to jump. Harry merely opened his eyes and looked in the direction Briony had just come from.

Ginny was standing at the end of his aisle, a large Visitor badge pinned to her shirt.

With only the slightest glance at Harry to see if that was what he wanted her to do, Briony stood up and hurried away. She skirted around Ginny and rushed out of sight. Harry focused on her for as long as he could before at last turning to stare at Ginny. She didn't look physically different than she had yesterday, yet she didn't look the same to him. She looked like she was suffering from some stress, probably because realized her game was up.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"You didn't come home last night," she said, walking slowly down the aisle. "I was worried. Hermione told me you stayed there last night and that you looked . . . and so I got dad to bring me here."

"So, what do you want?" he asked again.

"Why didn't you come home?" She took Briony's empty chair, searching him for an explanation. He watched her as she took inventory of the various cuts and scrapes on his face. She reached out to touch his cheek. "What happened?"

"I did come home last night," he said, pushing her hand away. There was no mistaking the change in her expression. Harry knew at once that she wasn't going to deny being with Dudley. "Quite the performance, I'd say."

Ginny recoiled as if he'd slapped her. He saw she was trying to control her breathing. She closed her eyes and swallowed. He looked away, unable to stand the sight.

"Harry," she said quietly, after a minute, reaching out to take his hand again. Once more he pulled away. She paused, but pressed on almost at once. "I can't explain it, but I swear to you that I thought it was you."

Harry let out a hollow laugh.

"You couldn't come up with anything better than that? D'you really expect me to believe that story when I _saw_ you two together?"

"I'm telling you," she said. "He must have put something in my drink or used some sort of spell because one minute I was fine and the next I was all . . . I saw you. It was you, Harry, but it felt different. Everything did. It didn't feel like your kiss . . . he didn't even call me Gin. I –"

"Stop." Harry put up his hand as he stood up. He paced back and forth for a minute. She didn't really think he was going to fall for her story, the most ridiculous one she could have come up with. His anger reaching boiling point he spoke exactly what was on his mind.

"How many other times have there been, Ginny? How many other guys?"

"None," she said, standing up too. "You're the only –"

"You know, I always thought those stories in the papers were complete rubbish," he interrupted, keeping his tone as indifferent as he could. "I actually thought you'd never do that." He bent down and picked up the crumpled photo. Pushing it into her hand he said: "Congratulations on bringing the Prophet's reliability up."

Harry quickly walked past Ginny and down the aisle, swallowing a painful lump in his throat. He ignored her pleas for him to come back, and successfully made it to the Apparition area by chanting one thing: Don't look back.


	21. Remus & Narcissa

Ginny tried to follow Harry but he was to the Apparition area and had Disapparated before she had a chance of catching him. She watched the spot where he had been, hoping he would come back. When a few minutes passed and he didn't appear she was forced to accept that he hadn't uttered such harsh words purely out of temper and wasn't going to return to apologize immediately.

Ginny slowly made her way back to Harry's desk and sat down, determined to wait for him. She understood that he was upset by what he had seen and as she feared he assumed that it was something different than it actually was. She needed to make him listen, to understand that she would never do something like that to him, least of all with Dudley Dursley.

The silence was deafening. Ginny didn't even have the tick of a clock to tell her how long she sat there, waiting for the sound of Apparition to announce Harry's return. After some time she remembered the piece of paper that he had shoved into her hand before he left. She spread it out on the surface of the desk and found it to be, not a piece of paper at all, but a picture. It was a picture Harry had taken from home. It was taken the day she'd won her first Quidditch game with the Harpies. In it, he'd had his arms around her and they were both smiling happily at the camera as Colin snapped the photo. Now though, Harry had walked out of the frame, leaving Ginny's photographic self looking confused, mirroring the emotions she was feeling in the here and now.

"Where's Harry?"

Ginny turned to see Briony standing behind the second chair. She hadn't heard her approach.

"What do you care?" she asked, turning away to wipe her eyes. The last thing she needed right now was to speak with Briony Wright. That girl had been nothing but trouble since she'd come into their lives.

"I should ask you that," Briony responded after a minute. Ginny turned to see if it really was her who had spoken. Whenever her father or Harry talked about this girl it was as if she was a meek little thing who wouldn't hurt a fly. The way she was speaking now did not match that description at all.

"Excuse me?" she asked, turning to look at Briony, who was leaning on the chair Ginny had been sitting in when she was talking to Harry, looking fierce, despite her diminutive height.

"I don't think there's an excuse for you. Harry told me what you did to him. The fact you can even show your face around here after what you did is astounding," Briony said.

"He told you?" Ginny was shocked that Harry would admit something like that to someone he had known for such a short time. To talk to Lupin, Ron or Hermione about it was one thing, but this girl? That didn't sound like Harry at all. What was it about Briony that had turned him into such a fool? A horrible thought came to her mind.

"Certainly he told me. We're friends and –"

"But you want to be more than that, don't you?" Ginny asked, standing up. She was beginning to wonder if they weren't already more than that. Maybe after what he had seen last night, Harry had . . . She didn't want to contemplate it.

"I don't – I'd never – Harry and I are friends. He'd never do anything as disgusting as what you did to him." Only near the end of her sentence did Briony regain control of her tongue. Ginny noticed she didn't really deny that she'd thought about it.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she replied weakly, sinking back into the chair. She couldn't deny that it was disgusting; she felt it herself. As the blurry recollections of what she had thought was happening with Harry last night returned to her, Ginny dearly wished she was somewhere with a shower.

"Look," she said to Briony, who was watching her a little too intently. "Not that I owe you any explanations, but I don't really know what happened. I would never do something like that to Harry, least of all with someone like Dudley Dursley." She paused and watched her photographic self look around with a lost expression. After a minute, hating that she was doing it at all, Ginny decided to go for broke.

"Harry's told me about all the help you've been to the task force with your additional research. In all your reading, have you come across a potion or spell that would cause someone to think they're with one person when really they're with another? Apart from the Confundus Charm, that is? I don't think it was a charm. I'm sure he slipped something into my drink."

Ginny could there was something going on in her mind. Though she said nothing to confirm or deny her knowledge, Ginny was sure that this was not a wholly knew theory to her.

"You have, haven't you?" she asked, rekindling the sense of hope that had died when Harry walked away from her. If she could convince Briony, maybe the two of them could get Harry to listen.

"There's no such thing," Briony said, though she didn't sound convinced. She was looking troubled, as though she was trying to remember something but not quite able to recall it.

"But you know something, don't you?" Ginny asked again, getting up for the second time. "Tell me."

"I've already told you there's nothing that would cause the reaction you're indicating. It sounds like you're trying to get out of accepting responsibility for your actions."

She should have expected such a statement, given how Briony had first reacted on discovering that Ginny was there, but she couldn't believe it. She was certain that this girl knew something that she wasn't letting on. Ginny looked down at the photo again, and recalling Harry's reaction, she felt a sudden desperation and anger at how deliberately unhelpful Briony was being. Without thinking Ginny grabbed her by the front of the robes and shook her.

"Don't give me that. You know something and you're going to tell me what it is," she half-shouted. Briony's head bobbed back and forth but she still said nothing.

"Unhand her," a deep voice said.

Ginny hadn't heard anyone else approach and let go out of pure shock. She stepped back and saw at once that Bredan Tougas was approaching, wand drawn. He wasn't the only one either. She saw a group of defeated looking people traipsing into a room just off the hall she'd tried to follow Harry down not so long ago.

"Are you all right?" Tougas asked Briony after looking angrily at Ginny.

"Fine," Briony responded, straightening the front of her robes. Tougas watched her do this before turning and looking from Ginny to Harry's desk and back.

"Where's Potter?" he asked.

"He left." It was Briony who answered with a significant glance at Ginny. "She was just here talking to him before he did."

"Couldn't have been a good conversation if she's turned to assaulting you."

Ginny didn't acknowledge Tougas's words. She'd once more been drawn in by the picture on the desk. The photographic Harry was back, standing awkwardly near the edge of the picture, looking ashamed. A second later a loud crack sounded, causing Ginny, Tougas and Briony to turn their heads.

Remus Lupin had just appeared in the Apparition area.

* * *

As Harry walked toward a house in the middle of a cramped street, he kept telling himself he had every right to say what he had to Ginny. She had been the one to betray his trust and yet still had the nerve to come and tell him that she hadn't known what she was doing. How stupid did she think he was?

He tried to compose his face as he rang the bell but Harry wasn't quite sure he achieved the indifference he'd been trying for. When Lupin answered the door, a book in one hand, a baby bottle in the other, his jubilant expression quickly gave way to a look of concern.

"What's happened?" he asked at once, ushering Harry into the cramped front hall and closing the door. He put the bottle and the book down on the banister and gestured for Harry to follow him into the sitting room. "We can talk in here. Tonks and Teddy are upstairs. Andromeda is here as well, but she'll give us some privacy."

At that moment the sound of a crying baby floated down the stairs and Andromeda came hurrying out of the sitting room. She smiled at Harry before dashing up the stairs. Harry, disturbed as always by the striking similarities in her and Bellatrix's appearances, shook his head.

"D'you think we could -" He motioned to the door. Lupin frowned and scrutinized Harry, making him look down and scratch his neck uncomfortably.

"What's wrong? Did something happen with Ron or Hermione? Or Ginny?"

Harry cringed again at the sound of her name, but nodded. He didn't feel much like elaborating. Lupin seemed to realize this.  

"There's a good pub just down the road," he said, holding the door open.

The pub turned out to be a cozy looking building with white stucco and dark wood trim. Shrubbery hid the walls below the windows. The inside was dark, and smoky. Lupin led Harry to a table in the corner where they sat. When the barman came over Lupin ordered a drink but Harry refused anything.

While they waited Harry looked around. He didn't want to begin this conversation. It was odd to him that he had so easily confessed to Briony, but was having a hard time talking to Lupin, someone he'd known a lot longer, and who he had specifically come to see for advice. Lupin sipped his drink and waited for Harry to talk.

"Er . . . " Slowly and haltingly, Harry explained what he had walked in on the day before. He kept his head down as he spoke.

"I'm so sorry," Lupin said quietly when Harry had talked himself into silence. "I can't even begin to imagine how you are coping with this." He paused and took another sip from his drink. "It doesn't sound like Ginny to do something like this. Are you sure –"

"She never denied that it was her," Harry interrupted He didn't want anyone making excuses for her.

"You've already talked to her?"

"Before I came here."

"What was her explanation?" Lupin asked.

"She said she wasn't sure . . . that she thought it was me."

Lupin sat back in his chair, looking disappointed. He continued to sip his drink without comment.

"People do stupid things all the time," Harry said. "They make all sorts of mistakes. I guess this is hers – if she even considers it a mistake."

Lupin remained silent, finishing his drink and he contemplated what Harry was saying. When he reached the bottom of his glass he ordered another. Only when that arrived and he had taken a sip did he speak again.

"How did she seem when she came to see you?"

"I dunno. Upset, I guess," Harry started. "But she would be if she knew she'd been caught, right?"

"I suppose," Lupin said slowly. "I still have trouble seeing Ginny doing something like that to you. Are you sure it wasn't someone pretending to be her under polyjuice potion, or maybe she'd been slipped something?"

Harry sighed exasperatedly and sat back in his chair.

"Who could have a reason for doing that – targeting Ginny in such a way?"

"You are on the task force that is trying to bring in two of the most wanted Death Eaters since Voldemort," Lupin said patiently. "I would venture a guess that Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange would want you out of their hair pretty bad."

"I'm not the only one on the team though," Harry argued. "Why haven't any of the others been attacked? Briony'd be an easy target for sure."

"I don't know, but it's worth considering. Maybe they see you as an easy target, too. You are the newest Auror. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you were the one who killed Voldemort."

Harry thought about this for a time. Within seconds he was squirming in his seat. He already knew that the task force was working off the premise that this case had some connection to him.

"That's got to do with work though. Ginny and I don't work together."

It was Lupin's turn to exhale in annoyance.

"It's exactly a secret that you didn't take Ginny's abduction well, Harry. I would guess that they have some connection in the Ministry who was able to get them all the details from the report you gave after Voldemort's death. They knew if something else happened to Ginny you'd completely lose it."

"It's too far-fetched," Harry said before considering it. The images had returned and he knew that there was no way Ginny could have looked the way she did if she were drugged.

"Consider this then. You're the one who told me that it's hard to deal with the 'boy who lived', 'conqueror of the dark lord' business all the time. Ginny has been there for you. Isn't it true that she's been the victim for some time, what with having to deal with mentions of her ordeals in the Chamber of Secrets and the abduction by Voldemort for a very long time?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry replied slowly. "It hasn't been a picnic for her, I get that. But it doesn't excuse what happened."

"You're right. I'm merely trying to point out that after everything she's gone through for you, and what the two of you have gone through together, don't you think it is less likely she would betray you the way it appears she did?"

Before Harry could answer a sliver of light fell across Lupin's face as the door opened. Harry would not have paid it any mind had Lupin's face not hardened.

"What?" He turned to see what had caused such an expression to form on Lupin's face.

Approaching their table was a pale-skinned woman with her eyes fixed on Harry. She was not as perfectly coiffed as usual: her hair was messy, her clothes rumpled. It looked like she had been through the mill.

"What do you want, Narcissa?" Lupin asked as she neared their table.

Narcissa Malfoy looked down her nose at Lupin, wrinkling her entire face in disgust before she turned her attention to Harry.

"You're a hard person to track down, Potter."

"What possible reason could you have to speak to me?" Harry questioned, not dropping his gaze from hers. She didn't answer the question, instead taking a chair from a nearby table and sitting down without an invite.

The barman rushed over, a smile on his face.

"Can I take your order, Miss?" he asked, looking her over appreciatively.

"Be gone, Muggle," she said, waving a long-fingered hand at him. The bartender looked both confused and angry. Though he could not possibly have known what she meant by Muggle, he clearly had no trouble with the meaning in her tone.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked wearily, turning his attention to a knot in the wood table.

"One would think," Narcissa started, enunciating each word in an annoyed tone, "that you would be a little more appreciative after all the effort I went through to find you."

"Why don't you just tell Harry what it is you came to tell him and then return to your manor," Lupin said.

Narcissa wrinkled her nose even more.

"I generally don't take orders from half-breed – but no matter. I will make an exception today. I came to tell you that you are right, Potter."

"About what?" Harry asked, not entirely sure he was able to keep a straight face. He could not recall a single time in the many years he had known the Malfoys when they had ever admitted that anyone else was right. He turned to see if it was really Narcissa Malfoy he was looking at. For the first time he saw that her make-up was smeared and it looked like she had been crying.

"My husband and sister. They have been staying at the manor off and on for years, and they've been carrying on an affair right under my nose." She looked away quickly.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, after a momentary smirk at the thought that Brazill had been right yet again. "Are they at the manor now?"

He was halfway out of his seat when Narcissa shook her head.

"No. They're out meeting with one of their informants. They're not to return until this evening." She spoke in a bitter tone. Harry was already preparing to return to tell his colleagues this information when Lupin tried again to get Narcissa to reveal the real reason for her visit.

"Why didn't you go to the Ministry with this information? Why come directly to Harry?" It was such a good question that Harry, who had been in the middle of getting up, sat back down in his chair to await the answer.

"Well . . . " Narcissa said slowly, choosing her words very carefully. "I suppose it's because he now understands what it's like to be betrayed like I have been. I – I want Lucius and Bella to pay, and I think, after what they've done to Potter, he deserves to be the one to bring justice on them."

"What do you know of this?" Lupin shot Harry a warning look, telling him to keep his seat. Harry did so with the greatest reluctance.

"The Ministry has more leaks than a rusty cauldron. I know all about the case, the spy in the Auror department, and how Lucius and Bella have been targeting Potter for months." She cast a glance at Harry and he was sure a small smile played across her face.

"About them," Lupin started. "If they've been in and out of your manor for years how is it they haven't been caught?"

"You need to clean the fur out of your ears, wolf. I just said they have a source in the Auror office that kept them well apprised of the task force's every move. They had enough warning to clear out every time the Aurors showed up."

"Who is it?" Harry asked, his hands clenched beneath the table.

"I know not. They don't feel I need those details, but I hear things," Narcissa said without an ounce of guilt.

"And when you told us that they hadn't been back to your house?" Harry asked.

"I lied. I don't owe anything to the Ministry."

"You admit that freely, but you expect me to believe what you're telling me?" Harry laughed derisively.

"I didn't have to come, and I am most certainly not going to explain myself to you, Potter. I just thought that you would have the most reason to see this through, seeing as how they targeted everyone around you, your little blood-traitor included."

"What?" Harry yelled so loudly that every other conversation in the pub came to a halt. He had jumped to his feet so fast that his chair toppled over and hit the floor with a loud bang.

"Yes. You didn't really believe she would have spread her legs for your cousin without help, did you?"

"Enough," Lupin said, also getting to his feet. "Harry, I don't – where are you going?"

Harry didn't answer. He was already halfway to the door, ignoring the curious and frightened looks he was getting from the other patrons of the pub. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he yanked open the door and returned to the bright street.

"Harry, wait," Lupin called, running after him. He had no intention of doing so, but Lupin caught up and grabbed his arm, spinning Harry so they were facing each other.

"Let go," Harry said, trying to pull out of the elder man's grasp.

"You can't go running off like this, based on the words of an admitted liar."

"The hell I can't," Harry said. "You were the one just trying to convince me that she hadn't done it. Now we have proof; you can't expect me to sit there!"

"Where are you going then? What do you think you're going to do by yourself?"

"I'm going to kill them," Harry said evenly as the image of what he had walked into last night came to mind. He struggled free of Lupin's grip. "Just go tell the task force I'm at Malfoy Manor."

Before Lupin could grab him again, Harry Disapparated.

A/N Just so there's no confusion here - the two scenes happen almost simultaneously - with Lupin arriving at the Ministry after the scenes with Narcissa take place.


	22. The Ritual Of Resurrection

Harry took only a second to assess his surroundings when he appeared. He quickly ducked into the early evening shadow provided by one of the yew hedges and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head. He had neither the time nor inclination to attempt a Disillusionment Charm. He just wanted to get to the house. He didn't care how long he had to wait but he was going to get Malfoy and Lestrange tonight, no matter the cost. Not thinking or caring about the noise he was causing, Harry ran full out under the cloak, or at least as fast as he could without it revealing his feet.

It was only when he was taking the last turn that led to the house that Harry, troubled by something, turned back and saw the metallic gate was standing open. Immediately he felt a shiver run down his spine. The Malfoy's were hardly the type of family who left their gate open, affording the opportunity for random people to walk in. He dithered for a second, contemplating leaving and coming back with reinforcements but decided against it. Someone in his department was keeping the Death Eaters apprised of the Aurors movements. There was no way in hell that Harry was going to do anything to aid Malfoy and Lestrange to escape again.

Much slower and quieter than before he made his way to the house. Pointing his wand at the door he quietly muttered, "Alohomora" sure that such an elementary spell wouldn't work, but the lock clicked and the door swung inward, revealing the richly decorated foyer.

Keeping his wand at the ready, Harry tiptoed into the house, closing and locking the door as he went. There was no need to give Malfoy and Lestrange advance warning of his presence. He looked around, peering in rooms, trying to find an out of the way place to wait for the two people he was going to finally bring to justice tonight. Invisible he might be, but it would be a fine thing to have someone walk into him.

Eventually Harry settled for a remarkably bare corner at the opposite end of the foyer from the front door. This offered him views of the eight other doors that led to other rooms, the staircase, and, of course, the front door.

The minutes ticked by slowly in the near complete silence; the only sound coming from the occasional cough, sigh or grunt given by the subjects of the portraits. Harry leaned back against the wall, trying to remain alert for any change in the environment, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about what Narcissa had said: Ginny had once again been hurt because of her relationship with him. Judging by her behaviour, even in the short time he had spent with her, Harry thought she seemed more rattled than she had at anytime after the ordeal with Voldemort. It was hardly surprising. Though her time as a prisoner in Snape's dungeon was not a laughing matter, what she had gone through last night was certainly much more traumatizing.

He couldn't begin to fathom her thoughts or feelings upon discovering what had happened. But this brought up another question: how had she been drugged in the first place? After everything she'd been through, Ginny was careful to avoid situations where she was at a disadvantage. The only time she was ever totally relaxed was around her family, or perhaps with someone whose magical skills were less than her own. Dudley certainly fit into this latter category.

Harry stood up straight as he thought of Dudley. Could he have been involved in this set-up somehow? It was certainly no secret that he'd desired Ginny for years, but would he go to such lengths to get her? Harry couldn't answer that question but another troubling thought came to him. Narcissa said what happened to Ginny was indeed a set up. Was Dudley just in the right place at the right time? (Harry gritted his teeth at the thought). Or was he involved in something more complex? It had to be the former. Dudley didn't know Malfoy and Lestrange, did he?

A bone-chilling cold came over Harry as though Dementors were approaching. He was sure Lupin was right and he had just walked into a trap. It wasn't a secret that he didn't always think things through before he acted. Had Narcissa been sent as a lure to get him to lose his temper and come running off here, where Malfoy and Lestrange wanted him?

Clutching the Invisibility cloak, Harry started to make his way out of the house. He had to get back to the Ministry and bring the rest of the task force come back with him.

"Not so fast, Potter." Lucius Malfoy's drawl was as distinct as ever. Before Harry could do so much as determine which direction the voice was coming from, a red light filled the foyer and all went black.

When he opened his eyes, Harry registered several things at the same time: his glasses were gone, he was staring at what looked like a ceiling illuminated by flickering firelight, and he was bound tightly to a cloth-covered, yet cold, stone table sitting several feet off the floor. He tried to struggle, but he was bound so tightly that only his head, fingers and feet would move; the rest of his body seemed to have gone numb. He tried to concentrate on breaking the bonds. They'd been taught how to get out of situations like this in Auror training, but, like his nonverbal spells, it was something he had always been patchy at. Now it was more important than ever. Before he was able to loosen the ropes at all he heard noises outside the room. lifted his head to see both if he was making any progress and if anyone had entered the room. The answer was no on both counts.

Harry lowered his head again and strained as hard as he could to get the ropes to break.

"How nice of you to rejoin the waking world, Potter," Malfoy said. "We thought you were going to sleep through all the excitement. Here." Harry felt his glasses as they were shoved back on his face. The room came back into view. "No reason for you to miss the show, is there?"

Harry's only answer was to continue his vain struggle to free himself. Seeing this, Malfoy laughed.

"If you can't even detect a simple Disillusionment charm, Potter, you have no hope of getting free of those ropes. You'll find you're missing one crucial item anywy." Malfoy pulled Harry's wand out of his pocket. He'd already assumed they had taken it and so wasn't shocked to see it in Malfoy's hand. Only the dumbest of criminals would leave weapons on their prisoners.

"I guess Dolores Umbridge was right: the Auror office was really desperate for people if they let you in."

Hoping to buy time to work on getting out of this predicament, Harry laughed.

"I guess they're not the only ones who were desperate though." He nodded at the ropes, which felt like they had loosened ever so slightly. "I've been in this sort of situation before. Remember the graveyard, and how I got away then? If you plan on killing me, you should do it right away. Time is a good friend of mine."

Malfoy smirked. "You may have been lucky in the past, Potter, but you don't share the same connection with Bellatrix and myself that saved you from the Dark Lord. No, we've both been looking forward to this too long to have it over with immediately. Besides that, Bellatrix has big plans for you."

"I don't doubt she's worked out some crazy plan in her deranged mind. I'm sure she's convinced herself she can bring Voldemort back from the dead. I didn't think you were fool enough to believe her, too. No spell can bring back the dead."

Malfoy flinched at the sound of his former master's name, but just as quickly he recovered and was smirking again.

"I know that, and you know that, Potter. Telling her would just spoil all the fun, even if she were to believe us. She's wanted to get you out of her hair for years and after what you did to my son, I have no objections."

"Really?" Harry asked, stopping the covert effort he was exerting to free himself. "Given how many of Voldemort's plans you screwed up, I'd have thought you'd be the last person who would want to help bring him back, no matter how unlikely his actual return is."

"Don't you get it, Potter? It's not about the Dark Lord – at least not for me." He came to hover over Harry, a dangerous glint in his eye. "You murdered my son. Did you really think I was going to let that go?"

"Voldemort murdered him," Harry said through clenched teeth. He was straining again to get out of his bindings.

"If Draco had been sensible – not seduced by your filthy little blood-traitor. and asked to find you, he wouldn't have been."

Harry felt a fresh wave of anger rush through him, and he tried again to struggle free of the ropes. He thought they had a little more give than before.

"It's the only decent thing he ever did, and he knew he was probably going to die for it. Perhaps you should take a lesson from him, be proud, rather than vengeful."

Malfoy withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it in Harry's face. The smooth quality of his voice disappeared as he began to speak again.

"It is an insult for a wizard of Draco's ilk to prostrate himself for a blood-traitor and a half-blood." He paused, the tip of his wand shaking a little. Harry stared back defiantly, willing Lucius Malfoy to do something. After a minute he looked away, stowing his wand in his pocket. "But it makes no difference now. We have you, and we're going to right this horrible wrong."

"You could have done that years ago," Harry said. "Why go through all this trouble?"

"I've already told you, Potter. Bellatrix wanted you dead for killing the Dark Lord. But more than that – she wanted you to suffer as you've made us all suffer.

"You were hard to get at that first year after He fell. We tried, believe me. We had to work much harder to avoid the Ministry in those days, but it all turned out well. Bellatrix discovered necromancy, we met up with Dolores Umbridge who told us about an easy source of information in the Auror office, this is where we learned of the work done by the department of mysteries: a most interesting find."

Lucius walked around the stone table, twisting his wand between his two hands. Harry wondered why he was being so forthcoming. If Malfoy and Lestrange were apprehended, the crimes being boasted about would be added to their sentences. But they either didn't expect to be caught or were relying too heavily on Voldemort's impossible return. The thought didn't comfort Harry at all.

"We hadn't thought of plotting anything until we learned that you were assigned to Yaxley's old case. We had already been working on a derivation of the potion that resurrected the Dark Lord before. When we learned that the task force was getting desperate for a lead on us, and had started looking into the cases of the missing Muggle-borns we had taken, we thought it was the perfect opportunity to tie you in as well. A two-for-one, if you will. Yaxley was never anything more than a pawn – we could afford to sacrifice him – and so we did. It was all a part of the plan to get you onto the task force where we had a greater influence."

Harry, who was making some progress with the ropes, stopped and looked at Malfoy, not believing what he was hearing. Even if they had a mole in the Auror office, they couldn't have that much influence.

Malfoy threw back his head and laughed.

"You didn't really think you were that great an Auror to get in of your own volition, did you? Finding all those leads falling into your lap didn't make you even the least suspicious? We made it so that you got here. Now, now, we can't have that, can we?" Malfoy pointed his wand at the ropes and they tightened, undoing all of Harry's hard work. Lucius looked into the hall.

"I don't know what's keeping Bellatrix, but it gives me the opportunity to finish enlightening you on how you got here. I know I shouldn't bother, because you'll be dead and we'll be long gone before your Auror friends ever get through our barriers."

"They might surprise you."

"Oh, I don't know. It took them this long to figure out that we've been staying here at the manor for years. But enough of this, let's talk about the Mudbloods. It was always going to be them once Bella discovered the idea of the resurrection potion. Why waste perfectly good magical blood when they were around? We didn't intend on using those close to you at first. That decision came after you were assigned to the task force and after we had already taken Finch-Fletchley."

"Why?" Harry asked, once more temporarily giving up the struggle. The fact Malfoy was volunteering this information was beginning to disturb him more than it should. It likely meant that they were confident he wasn't going to get out of here in a state to relay any of it. His inability to get out of the ropes that bound him added to his worry that they might not be overconfident this time.

"Why? Surely you would have worked that out for yourself." Malfoy paused again and shook his head, laughing to himself. "What am I saying? You're the Auror who doesn't know how to Disillusion yourself. The Finch-Fletchley boy was taken because he was there –a convenient subject for Bellatrix's potion. Oh, and while we're on the subject, I wanted to let you know that those photos of the Mudblood Creevey – we figured you would like to know how we disposed of our subjects once we were done with them.

"That was a fruitful night. Our source told us about your scar and Bellatrix fine-tuned our plan. We didn't just want to get you then, she realized that we needed you. What better way to get you here than to make you aware that we were targetting your Mudblood friends? We were worried that you might not work it out on your own though, and so we decided to do one additional thing – well, I suppose we'd already had that in place, but it became much more integral to our plan – we needed to include your blood traitor. And believe me we had a more than willing participant to help us with that aspect of our plan."

"Who?" Harry asked furiously, trying again to break the ropes with no success.

"No, no, no, Potter," Malfoy said, waving his finger in Harry's face. "You won't get any answers with a tone like that.

"We were surprised you worked out our plan with the bodies of the Mudbloods. Of course you walked right into the trap though, so thank you for that. Since we're putting everything on the table now, you might want to know we brought so many Death Eaters with us because we planned to take you and Granger both that night. You were getting a little too close to figuring out our plan for comfort. Moody was a fortunate byproduct of that night. When Granger got off that lucky stunner and hit me, Bellatrix decided to cut her losses. Moody and the house-elf were enough for the night, she said. That's why she packed up and left. We hadn't quite broken you yet anyway. She redoubled her efforts with the Weasley girl. Tell me something, Potter." Malfoy leaned down so their eyes were on a level, a malicious smile on his face. " – did it upset you to see her with the Mudblood?"

Harry could feel his heart rate increase as he strained against his bonds again, with no effect except increasing his anger. Malfoy smiled at Harry's reaction and regained his full height.

"I believe Bellatrix is coming."

Harry froze for a second. He could indeed hear the click of approaching footsteps. He also heard a tinkling like glass bottles tapping against each other. He thought he heard a soft cackling that reminded him very much of Bellatrix. At once he started struggling again.

Bellatrix made her way into the room, carrying five phials of a sickly yellow substance that Harry recognized at once as the same they'd collected from Justin's desk just after he disappeared. A small cauldron floated along in front of her. When she saw Harry bound to the table a large, sickening smile, appeared on her face. Setting her phials and cauldron on a nearby table she extracted a long knife with a wavy blade. It gleamed in the firelight.

"So glad you could join us, Potter," she said, setting the knife down and coming over to where Malfoy was standing. Her smile vanished and was replaced by a hungry, salacious expression. Slowly she reached out her left hand and touched Harry's scar. Sickened by her touch he did the only thing he could: he turned his head.

Without a word she backed away and Harry at last felt it was safe to look at her. She was caressing her left forearm tenderly, wearing the same look as when she touched Harry's scar. It was only as she removed her hand that he saw she'd been touching her Dark Mark.

Bellatrix turned her attention to the contents on the table. She uncorked each of the five phials and poured them, with some difficulty, into the cauldron where they fizzed and sent a huge mushroom cloud of yellow smoke into the air, where it hovered. She stirred the contents until the cloud slowly returned to the cauldron. Bellatrix watched the potion carefully for five minutes, continually caressing her Dark Mark, often turning to look at Harry, but she didn't try to touch him again, for which he was extremely relieved.

When the potion was gurgling with a steady and sickening regularity, Bellatrix picked up the knife again. Placing her arm over the cauldron she ran the knife over her Dark Mark, creating a long and deep cut. Blood dripped freely from the wound, turning the shimmers from the potion a deep red. Only after she looked on the verge of passing out did Bellatrix run her wand over the cut, healing it, but leaving an angry red scar. She touched it, her face alit with ecstasy. Then she turned to Harry, knife in hand.

"You are going to help us – help me – resurrect the Dark Lord, Potter. With the fear of his most ardent opposers - Mudbloods, the blood of a most loyal servant, and a good bit of his powers from you . . . the Dark Lord will rise again and this time he will be undefeated."

"You're crazy," Harry said. "First of all, nothing you do will bring back Voldemort. He's dead. I destroyed all of his Horcruxes – the only reason he was able to return last time. That's why all his powers drained from me when I killed him five years ago."

"Magic always leaves traces," she answered at once, running the surface of the knife over his forehead. "This will work. You'll be dead and the Dark Lord will be back; undefeatable." The desirous gleam in her eye was back.

Bellatrix raised the knife and brought it down in one swift motion. Harry saw the blade come down as if in slow motion and knew that he was surely dead if he didn't move that instant. He tried one last time to move to the left. The tip of the knife nicked his scar and tilted away as Harry toppled off the table. He had broken free from his bonds without aid of a wand but he had no hope of escaping without it or his Invisibility Cloak, which was sitting on a table in the opposite corner of the room.

Harry tried to stand, but failed because he couldn't quite feel his limbs. An even more pressing problem was upon him though. The door, which stood to his left, was too far for him to run to without being stunned.

"Come now, Harry Potter, we are not going to play this game," Bellatrix said. Harry could hear her coming around the table. "You cannot escape this house, even if you had a wand."

He was sure he could hear Malfoy join her. Harry did the only thing he could think of. He scrambled to the foot of the table, hoping he'd be able to grab his cloak, or get round the other side and out the door somehow. At the very least he needed to hold them off until the rest of the task force arrived. Hopefully they would stay together and not decide to approach from separate sides.

When he was halfway around the opposite side of the table, Harry decided to make a run for it. He stood a little straighter, but before he even had a chance to run he saw they were both standing mere feet from the door. Both Malfoy and Bellatrix had their wands pointed at him and as soon as his head appeared over the top of the cloth-covered table Malfoy fired a stunning spell. Harry ducked it.

He was just wondering if he stood a chance of bowling one of them over and escaping that way when help came from the most unlikely source.

"Expelliarmus," a male voice shouted from the doorway. Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand. With a quick lunge, Harry caught it and seized what would probably be his only opportunity to disarm Bellatrix. He had her wand only because she hadn't expected the arrival. Harry was sure that it was one of his fellow Aurors, but it was Dudley.

"Expelliarmus," Harry called at once, and caught Dudley's wand as well. He might have just miraculously disarmed a Death Eater, but that didn't make Harry trust him any more.

"Accio wand," he said, and his own wand flew out of Malfoy's pocket.

Now he had the upper hand, Harry wasn't sure what to do. He'd come here for a specific purpose – to rid the world once and for all of these two murderers . . . he had all of their wands, it would be easy enough to do . . .

After looking around at the other three people in the room, Bellatrix cackled loudly. Harry wasn't the only one who was sure she'd finally gone completely mad.

"Look at this, Lucius, the betrayer has betrayed us. I told you we should have bound him; these Mudbloods can't be trusted. Come in, come in." She grabbed Dudley by the arm and pulled him into the room. He didn't protest but he didn't look happy either. "I think – since we're educating Potter on how he came to be here – we need to enlighten him on the role this Mudblood played. Don't you think?"

"Certainly. Should you tell, or should I?" Malfoy asked, some of his infamous arrogance returning. "He almost went the way of the others, you know, until I recognized him as your cousin, Potter. We were already working on a way to get to you, and here was our ready-made key. He was most willing to cooperate, weren't you?" He turned to look at Dudley. "He doesn't have the stubborn streak you do. He was quite happy to work out a trade: you for your girlfriend."

Malfoy stopped again and watched Harry closely. In contrast, Dudley was trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, cowering against the door.

He'd been wondering this very thing while he'd been waiting for Malfoy and Lestrange so Harry wasn't as shocked as he might have been. He was feeling more ashamed that he hadn't caught onto this earlier. Dudley never had the slightest interest in improving their relationship before he showed up on Harry's doorstep, asking for a place to stay. It now made sense though, why he had seemed so certain that Harry would say yes. Malfoy and Lestrange had probably told Dudley that Harry would agree if he said he had nowhere else to go.

Then there were those odd disappearances at night. Those now made sense as well. Dudley hadn't been dividing his time evenly between Keelie, Brenna and Privet Drive; he'd been spending time with Malfoy and Lestrange. He'd been working as their spy – twice he'd been into Harry's papers – once the day after he'd arrived and another time that Harry had blamed on Hedwig.

There were many things that Harry had to talk to Dudley about, it seemed, but that was going to have to wait for later . . . if there was a later.

"You played right into our hands by agreeing to take him in," Malfoy said, confirming Harry's thought. "And in many ways the way it happened worked out to our benefit. The way Weasley insisted that you give in helped plant the seed of doubt that got you to believe she would take up with your cousin, didn't it? Who knew that the boy who lived wasn't living the happily ever after everyone thought he was.

"Not that it was all fun and games for us. This one – " Malfoy pointed at Dudley " – is the biggest dolt I've ever seen. Crabbe and Goyle are geniuses compared to him."

Dudley bristled but said nothing. In fact, he seemed to cower even more.

"He was hopeless as a spy. Twice he tried going through your papers and found out less than we knew ourselves from our source in the Auror office. He was good for a few things though. He certainly kept you from spending too much time focused on that case. He did his job in getting you to think he was spending all his time with those two stupid Muggle girls, or at that repulsive Muggle hovel."

Harry glanced at Dudley. To hear it told in such a way made him even angrier that he'd actually believed that he and his cousin might ever have a normal relationship. How Dudley had ever managed to make him believe that he cared about Privet Drive and his parents was making Harry grit his teeth.

"Where's he been, then?" he challenged.

"Here, of course," Malfoy said with a little chuckle. "He needed to get a better at magic to achieve what we wanted him to. We did have to teach him how to conjure the Dark Mark."

"What?" Harry asked loudly. Of all the things he'd expected to hear, this was not one of them. He was so surprised that he very nearly dropped the wands. Malfoy and Lestrange both laughed.

"Who would expect the cousin of the great Harry Potter to do such a thing?" Bellatrix asked. "It was genius. We were in and out of the Ministry before anyone was the wiser, thanks to our _little_ helper."

Harry raised all four wands and pointed them at the three people standing before him but he was even more uncertain.

"There must be something in your genes that makes your entire family weak," Malfoy said with a sneer on his face when he saw Harry's uncertainty. "Even your moronic cousin tried to back out of our deal, didn't you, Dursley?"

"I – I – I- I d-did," Dudley answered meekly, looking at Harry pleadingly. This attempt to elicit sympathy from him made Harry want to jinx Dudley on sight. After everything he'd done it was impossible to believe he had the nerve.

"Weak and ungrateful," Malfoy continued. "Weren't you just meeting with us to complain about how imperfect your night with Ginevra Weasley was?"

Harry took a step forward, half-raising the wands, still unsure of what he was going to do. He had to make up his mind soon, but . . .

"I'm so sorry," Dudley said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I didn't think we would start getting along . . . I would take it all back – _all of it_ – if I could, but –"

"Too late," Bellatrix said from behind Harry. Before he could turn around she had wrapped her arm around his neck. She was surprisingly strong and though he struggled, it was no use. Harry still had the wands and tried to perform a nonverbal spell but with no luck. He felt a cold metal pressed hard against his neck and knew that Bellatrix had her knife positioned so that if he moved he'd slit his own throat.

"Interesting family dynamic," Malfoy said smugly, coming forward and taking the wands from Harry. He handed Bellatrix her wand, pocketed Harry and Dudley's and then pointed his wand and said "Petrificus Totalus."

Harry instantly felt his limbs snap together and he couldn't move.

"Enough of this. Those Aurors are going to break through our wards eventually," Bellatrix said. "I want the ritual of resurrection completed." She had Lucius remove the spell so she could pull Harry's head back. Looking him in the eye she said, "thank you, Potter, for your contribution."

Bellatrix raised the knife and brought it down, cutting into Harry's scar until she hit bone. Unable to help himself, Harry screamed in pain. He kicked out and connected with Malfoy's knee.

"Ooomphf." He fell backwards. Harry used that move to struggle free of Bellatrix's grasp. He lunged forward, intent on getting a wand again and saw his own fall out of Malfoy's pocket. He grabbed it and rolled over on his back just in time to block Bellatrix's stunner. He quickly bound Malfoy before taking the effort to get to his feet. He wanted Bellatrix's wand from her again.

"Give it up, Potter," she said as they circled the stone table, throwing spells at each other with every opportunity. "I have told you before that you are no match for me. Protego."

Harry dived behind the table and immediately cast another disarming spell. It miraculously worked again. Bellatrix's wand hit the opposite wall. She turned to get it.

"Don't move," Harry said, standing up. He summoned the three wands, pocketed them then he pointed is own wand at Bellatrix and had her back up so she was standing right next to the still bound Malfoy.

Now they were at his mercy he could do what he came here to do. He could prevent them from ever hurting Ginny, or Hermione, or anyone else again.

Harry raised his wand to perform the curse he'd done only once before, staring at the mocking expressions on the two Death Eater's faces. He thought of Ginny and what she'd been through, the pile of bodies they'd left without care for their victim's families, about Mad-Eye Moody, and Hyde, not to mention the innumerable nameless victims. He formed the words in his mind and prepared to shoot the curse.

All of a sudden he was seeing fire and smoke everywhere, he was staring into the wide scarlet eyes set into a skull-white, serpentine face. A flash of green light connected with Voldemort and then all Harry could feel was pain, months and months of pain.

He stumbled back, hitting the stone table, again trying to push painful memories from his mind. Bellatrix and Lucius laughed.

"Shut up," Harry said, through clenched teeth. They, however, did not stop at all. They continued laughing.

"You have not changed, Harry Potter. You were too weak to kill me when you were fifteen, and you are too weak to kill me now," Bellatrix replied.

"I said shut up." Harry raised his wand to eye level, but he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear the memories of killing Voldemort. This momentary weakness was taken advantage of as Bellatrix was upon him, reclaiming the wands yet again. Harry put up no resistance, feeling almost as though he again under the full body bind curse. Bellatrix removed the ropes around Malfoy and he was at once on his feet.

"This ends now, Harry Potter," she said, approaching Harry, wand in one hand, knife in the other.

"Avada Kedavra," Malfoy shouted, pointing his wand at Harry who didn't move an inch.

At that precise moment a jet of red light hit Malfoy in the back and he toppled forward, his spell hitting the stone table, cracking it inches from Harry's hand.

Five figures emerged as Disillusionment charms lifted: the task force had at last broken through the barriers Malfoy and Lestrange had put up. Seeing them brought a certain sense of relief onto Harry. He summoned the strength to crawl to the other side of the thick table and sat there, leaning back against it, covering his bleeding scar and again berating himself for being lured into a trap.

Behind his eyelids Harry could see a flash of colour and therefore knew that Bellatrix wasn't going to go quiet, but he paid no attention to it. Whatever would happen would happen, he was done with this case.

"Harry?"

The improbability of her presence was what caused him to open his eyes. Unless he was starting to see things, Ginny was definitely there, crouching before him. Harry reached out and touched her face, just to be sure, noting the worried expression she was wearing.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes moving up to his scar. Instead of answering, Harry pulled her to him.

"I'm sorry, Gin," he said, unsure of what he was apologizing for.

"Sssh," she replied. "We'll talk about it later."

They sat like that for a time, until a large scuffle started. Both Harry and Ginny peered over the table. Kingsley and Tougas had been unsuccessful in their attempts to stun Bellatrix, but they had finally got hold of her and were leading her out of the room; she was not going quietly. Mere seconds after Harry and Ginny began observing the scene, Bellatrix lunged at someone they couldn't see. Kingsley and Tougas immediately restrained her and continued pulling her.

"Wht the hurry?" Bellatrix asked, another of her crazy cackles reverberating around the room. "Don't you want to make sure you get all the guilty parties? Your leak is standing right before you." The other people in the room stilled and silence fell.

"I – I'm not," Briony said. "I swear I'm not." Tougas and Kingsley shifted enough that Harry could see Briony and the frantic look on her face.

"Oh you most certainly are, though I guess it's hardly surprising you don't remember. The Confundus charm has a tendency to do that, with only the mildest of side-effects of disorientation and forgetfulness after repeated use.

"But I assure you that Miss. Wright was as useful to us as her aunt said she would be. We got to her quite easy and it is thanks to her we got all our information on what the Unspeakables got up to, your pitiful attempts to find Lucius and I, information on Harry Potter, and of course –" Bellatrix twisted around to smirk at Harry " – how he took the news that the blood traitor had betrayed him."

"No, I – I couldn't have," Briony said, weakly, not looking at anyone.

"You lying bitch." Tougas, with a look of unfettered fury in his eyes, pushed his wand tip into Bellatrix's throat. She didn't flinch. Her smile increased.

"What? Your Miss. Wright not as perfect as you thought she was, Tougas?"

As Bellatrix taunted Tougas, Kingsley was telling him to remove his wand. Tougas did nothing of the sort, instead pressing his wand harder into her throat, his face turning from an angry red to a furious purple.

"Tougas," Kingsley barked, taking his hand off Bellatrix's arm for only a second to slap Tougas's hand away. Ever resourceful, she grabbed Tougas's wand and Disapparated before they could get a good grip on her again.

The silence remained for another few seconds as everyone processed what had happened.

"I thought you cast the Anti-Disapparition jinx," Kingsley thundered, pointing his wand at Tougas's face.

"I thought I had," Tougas admitted, looking the most shocked of all of them, not meeting Kingsley's gaze.

"This is why you double check. Take this one and get back to the Ministry." Kingsley touched the stunned form of Malfoy with his toe. "Can I trust that you're not going to do anything stupid with him, like leave him with his wand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Get going. Once you have him locked up I want you to wait for me. You and I, Tougas, need to have a long chat."

Supporting a floating, stunned Malfoy with his own wand, Tougas left. Kingsley turned to Briony, speaking more gently.

"You, Miss. Wright, I'd also like to await my return at the Ministry. Kitson, accompany her, will you?"

They disappeared as well, Kitson leading a sobbing Briony out of the room.

"If there's no objection," Lupin spoke up, making Harry realize for the first time that he was there. "I'm going to take Mr. Dursley to Grimmauld Place."

There was none.

"Right. The rest of you, search this place. I want you to gather any evidence you can. Also, though I'm sure she's long gone, look for Lestrange." As Schultz, Brazill and Dawlish left, Kingsley at last turned to Harry and Ginny, a frown on his face.

"Stupid thing to do, Potter, running off on your own like that. It could have been a set up."

"It was."

Kingsley's frown deepened. He looked Harry over once.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Potter, but I'll wait until you're less likely to bleed to death. See me tomorrow." He turned away and began examining the contents of the cauldron.

Unsure what to do, Harry stood there for a full thirty seconds before Ginny took his hand.

"Let's get the hell out of here."


	23. The End Of The Affair

It was hard for Ginny to step back into the flat, especially with Harry, but she knew that his wound was desperately in need of healing; his skin was the ashy-grey colour of old parchment. She also knew that if they went back to the Burrow, where she wanted to go, her mother would start asking all sorts of questions, the very kind she didn't want to answer right now. Holding tightly to Harry's hand, she used her wand to unlock the door and they stepped in.

Wait here," she said, pushing Harry onto the sofa. She hurried off to the loo for the frequently used bottle of Dittany, careful to keep her eyes focused on the floor. Her hands shook a little as she ransacked the cabinet for the potion. When she finally located the bottle she nearly dropped it to the floor, catching it at the last minute only because she'd honed her reflexes playing Quidditch. She quickly left the bathroom and returned to Harry who had his head leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed. He opened them very slowly as she stood over him from behind the sofa and poured a few drops of the potion on his wound.

"I hope this works," she said, remembering the poor results they had achieved the last time they'd tried Dittany on his scar. To her great relief, and Harry's, too, the wound rapidly repaired itself and the bleeding stopped.

"Thanks," Harry said, looking up at her, not smiling. He looked about as tired as she felt. He hadn't had much sleep before all of this mess started and she doubted he'd had any last evening when he stayed at Ron and Hermione's. She wanted nothing more than to say that everything would be OK once they had a good night's sleep, but it had been a long time since something as simple as sleep fixed problems and this was a big one.

Not sure what to say at all, Ginny decided to resort to what had been her failsafe over the last seven weeks: cleaning. She returned the Dittany to the bathroom and then returned to deal wit the rest of the mess. The remnants of the previous evening's dinner were still laid on the table. She set to putting things in order, trying very hard not to think about the circumstances surrounding this mess. Things were going well until she picked up the Butterbeer bottle that she'd spilled when everything started to go awry. Outwardly there was nothing to distinguish this bottle from any of the dozens, if not hundreds, that she'd had over the years, but the very sight of this bottle started to make her feel queasy. Suddenly she was drowning in all the same thoughts and doubts she'd been trying to repress last night.

She should have known that something was wrong with the bottle after the fuss Dudley had gone through in opening it – this bottle had a twist-off lid – but she hadn't. She'd foolishly let herself believe that she was a match for anything Dudley would try. Worse than that, she had actually started to trust him, to believe his apology for his previous behaviour. That was all a lie, obviously. The whole thing had been a lie, a way to trick her into drinking that potion so he could –

Holding her hand over her mouth, Ginny ran for the loo and was soon crouched over the cistern. She hadn't been able to stomach anything all day and thus had nothing to purge, but her body kept trying anyway. She could feel tears burning at the corner of her eye and she couldn't catch her breath.

"Gin, you OK?" Harry asked, kneeling in the doorway and rubbing her back. She tried to nod, but another spasm overcame her and she was once more bringing up fluids she didn't know were in her stomach.

Harry said nothing else. He continued to rub her back, and when she regained a semblance of control on her breathing he handed her a glass of water. Unable to speak she took the glass and settled for wearing what she hoped was a grateful expression.

Ginny saw Harry look over to the bathtub where her charred clothes still remained. Though he looked away quickly, and made no comment, she was sure he understood what had happened because he spent a great deal of time watching his hands, shooting her only covert looks.

Neither of them said a word for a long time, nor could they stand to look at each other. Ginny was worrying about that look on Harry's face. She'd seen it loads of times before and it never preceded news that she liked. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about but realized that it would be a pointless question. Harry either wouldn't tell her, or he would lie. It was clear though, from the pained expression he wore every time he looked at her, that he was recalling some of the less than pleasant aspects of their relationship – particularly the things pertaining to Voldemort.

Maybe he was finding it as awkward to be around her as she was around him. After the cruel words he uttered earlier, Ginny was hardly surprised. But it was more than that, too. He had been the one who had walked in and seen – that! Even though he now knew the truth, was he ever going to be able to get that image out of his mind? Did he now look at her differently, too? Would they ever be able to get past that?

Feeing as though she couldn't stand to be in this flat a moment longer, Ginny finally spoke up, having to clear her throat several times before any noise would actually come out.

"I hope you don't mind, Harry, but I'd really rather stay at the Burrow tonight."

She wasn't sure if she was reading his expression correctly, but Ginny rather thought that he was as grateful to get out of the flat as she was. He helped her to her feet and they both headed for the fireplace in the corner of the sitting room.

Seconds later, Ginny was standing in the cozy kitchen of the Burrow. Harry followed quickly, but even before he arrived she was not alone. Both her mother and father were awake, sitting at the kitchen table with Bill, Fleur, Fred, George and Tonks. What looked like a hastily scribbled letter was lying forgotten in the middle of the table.

"Harry? Ginny?" her mother said in surprise. "What brings you here at this late hour?"

Whether it was being back in her family home, the fact she was finally away from all the painful memories that being back in Harry's flat had made her recall, or the fact that her mother sounded genuinely concerned Ginny didn't know, but she found at once that she couldn't suppress her emotions anymore. Practically throwing herself into her mother's arms, she began sobbing, answering questions so incoherently that she might as well not have bothered. She heard the scraping of chairs as the others in the room got to their feet, but she didn't look at them, grateful that her mother told them to stay away.

Without question or complaint, Ginny allowed her mother to lead her up the stairs and into her old room, unchanged even though she didn't live here anymore. She sat on the bed while her mother walked about the room, collecting pajamas for her, conjuring a cup of tea and forcing her to drink it after which Ginny felt a little calmer.

"Now," Molly said, smiling reassuringly. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

Ginny started to shake her head but stopped, knowing that she would have to talk about it some time. Her mother might not question her tonight, but she would tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. It might be better to get it over with now. Slowly she started to talk, keeping her voice even with a lot of effort. She couldn't look at her mother while she spoke, and Molly remained silent the entire time. She also took her lead from Ginny when the story was through. It was plain to see that she was upset and that she wanted to show it, but all she did was hug her daughter, and rub her back soothingly.

"You've been through the ringer, dear, there's no doubt about that. I think the best thing for you now is to get a good night's sleep. She pulled from the pocket of her robes, a bottle of Dreamless sleep potion. "A measure of this is what you need."

"No," Ginny said, louder than she had intended. She didn't like the look that she was getting and thus added, "I – I think I'm tired enough not to need it."

"Don't be stubborn, Ginny. This won't hurt you, it will help you get some much needed rest." There was something in her expression that told Ginny she hadn't believed this flimsy excuse. Deciding that it was time she came clean with at least one person, she plucked up the little bit of courage she had left.

"I'm not being stubborn. I just can't take the stuff because I'm –"

"Pregnant?" Molly asked, already with a slight tilt of her head to show it was less of a question than it sounded.

"Yes."

"Oh, Ginny," Molly sighed, placing her hands in her lap. She remained in a contemplative silence for a moment, betraying nothing of her reaction on having her suspicions confirmed. Ginny didn't say anything either. Like her mother had done with her, she would wait to see what the reaction was before showing any of her own feelings on the matter. "How long?"

"About ten weeks, I think," Ginny said, feeling a little bit of relief that her mother hadn't immediately started shouting at her. "I found out just after the last Quidditch game."

"I suspected as much, as did most people." Molly nodded as she spoke. "Why have you waited so long to tell us? And . . . how is Harry taking the news?"

"I . . . er . . . haven't told him yet," Ginny admitted, finding this confession harder than anything else she had told her mother.

"It's not going to remain a secret for much longer, you know."

Yes, she knew that quite well. She'd been having a horrible time trying to figure out a way to tell Harry though. The very last thing she wanted to do, given how things were going for him at work, was to add the biggest problem of all. It was a problem because, though they had touched on the subject of having a family eventually, neither of them was in a place right now where it was a good idea to bring a child into the world. That was true even before the events of the last twenty-four hours had unfolded.

"Well, try an get some sleep then." Molly said, seeming to sense that there wasn't going to be any more conversation on the matter. She started to leave, but Ginny called her back.

"Mum, please don't tell anyone what happened . . . or about the baby."

Though she looked like she didn't agree with this decision at all, Molly said that she would keep quiet about everything they had talked about.

Ginny closed her eyes as her mother left but, even though she hadn't slept the night before, she couldn't calm her thoughts enough to drop off anytime soon. Not only was she now thinking about what her mother said, and how she was going to tell Harry, she was also thinking about how he was going to react, especially in light recent events.

Dwelling on these events led Ginny into somewhat of a stupor that turned to sleep some time during the night. When she opened her eyes the sun was just starting to appear over the horizon and she saw Harry sitting on the edge of the bed tightly gripping Gryffin, her stuffed Gryffindor lion. He hadn't noticed she was awake. He seemed deep in thought and it didn't look like he would notice much in the way of subtle movements. Once more he was looking as troubled as he had the previous evening during their brief stay at the flat.

"Morning," she said at last.

"Sleep well?" he asked, looking at her quickly, and loosening his hold on Gryffin.

"Yes. You?"

He didn't answer this question, choosing instead to watch the inanimate animal. She could feel that he wanted to sigh, but restrained from doing so with some difficulty.

"Harry, what is it?"

He looked away from the lion for just a second, wearing a smile that did not carry to his eyes.

"After the last few days you had, you needed the rest." He went back to staring at the lion again. Ginny waited for him to talk first, unsure that she would be able to say anything more herself due to the tightening in her chest.

"This isn't the first time we've been here – having to recuperate from some horrible experience, nor is it going to be the last with Bellatrix Lestrange still on the loose."

"They – they didn't capture her?" she asked, her throat dry.

"No. She, Narcissa and Umbridge have disappeared from the face of the earth." Once more Harry looked at her, not turning away this time. "She's not going to stop just because Lucius Malfoy is now in custody. She thinks that she can resurrect Voldemort."

Ginny didn't feel it was necessary to repeat the oft-cited statement that Bellatrix was expecting the impossible. She waited in silence for Harry to continue. He continued to watch her, but she had to keep looking away, feeling as though the intensity of his gaze might scorch her.

"Even if it hadn't been Dudley, or you hadn't been . . . they were still going to target you just because you were with me. I thought it was all over after Voldemort, but Bellatrix Lestrange is worse than any of us imagined her to be. Gin, I –"

She put up her hand. "Just get Dudley Dursley into Azkaban and let him rot there. The rest of the task force will catch her soon, I'm sure. As for me, I'll have to be more careful, is all."

Ginny thought Harry might have worn the hint of a smile for a second before he looked away again, choosing to stare at Gryffin rather than at her.

"There's something that they told us in Auror training I never fully understood until all of this happened: you should not allow a case to get personal. I didn't do it on purpose, but as soon as we started working on the premise that I was the target I should have backed out."

"Are you going to do that now?" Ginny was mentally crossing her fingers for an affirmative answer, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm too involved now. She's got it in her head that I am the key to bringing Voldemort back. Whether I'm involved in the case or not, she's going to come after me. I need to stay a few steps ahead of her and not allow a repeat of last night's performance. That's why I –"

"Don't say it," Ginny said, putting up her hand and turning away so she didn't have to look at him.

"I have to. I can't go through – I can't allow you to become the victim every time. It's dangerously distracting, but more importantly it's affecting your life. If things keep on like this you're going to end up dead."

He uttered this phrase with such ferocity that Ginny was momentarily at a loss for words. Harry seized the opportunity to press Gryffin into her hands, stand up and head for the door. Ginny scrambled out of bed and threw the stuffed animal on the dresser.

"There are other ways. You don't have to keep leaving," she said, not quite able to manage the angry tone she'd been trying for.

Harry stopped, hand on the doorknob, ready to leave at any minute. He looked away, shuffling his feet as though he would rather be anywhere but with her at the moment. Ginny could tell that he hadn't been swayed by her argument at all.

"Unless you'd rather be somewhere else?"

He didn't nod or shake his head, but Harry did look at her again. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but once more she had to look away from his intense gaze. Harry seized his opportunity; he was out the door and down the stairs in seconds. She followed him, hoping to catch up and get him to see reason, but she arrived just outside the door of the house in time to see Harry disappear.

She found herself once again focusing on somewhere Harry had been, rather than somewhere that he was, and thinking about all of the things that she had meant to say but hadn't got the chance. The first vividly clear thought that she had was of how she should have taken her mother's advice and told him immediately about the baby. If she had, things would have been different.

The End - but, to be continued . . .

A/N: Don't kill me! This is, as I've said (I think), the second part in the Demons & Shadows trilogy so there's still another part coming, where things will get worse before they get better - if they get better. I have some of that story already written but I still have some plot elements to work out. Look for that story coming soon, but I don't know how soon. I really just wanted to write this note to thank everyone for reading/reviewing. It's been a fun and sometimes nauseating experience to write this story and I'm glad people seem to like it as well. Thanks, Sabrina.


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